LIBRARY 

OF   THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

GIFT  OK 
DiOLOGY 

LIB^RY    y. M.O.  A.  OF  U.Q. 

^Accession       10. 1.7  8. 5  ,      Class 


BIRD-WAYS 


OLIVE  THORNE   MILLER 


&i 

UNIVERSITY  ) 


BOSTON    AND    NEW   YORK     • 
HOUGHTON,    MIFFLIN   AND   COMPANY 


1885 


Copyright,  1885, 
BY  H.  M.  MILLER. 

A II  rights  reserved. 


uv 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge : 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Co. 


9.  fa. 


The  Bird  is  not  in  its  ounces  and  inches,  but  in  its  rela- 
tions to  Nature  •  and  the  skin  or  skeleton  you  show  me  is  no 
more  a  heron,  than  a  heap  of  ashes  or  a  bottle  of  gases  into 
which  his  body  has  been  reduced,  is  Dante  or  Washington. 
—  EMERSON. 


INTRODUCTORY. 


IN  offering  to  bird-lovers  these  studies  from 
life,  I  wish  to  say  that  with  the  exception  of 
an  incident  or  two  —  properly  credited  —  every- 
thing herein  recorded  came  under  my  own  ob- 
servation, and  is  literally  and  entirely  true  so 
far  as  the  fact  is  concerned ;  I  may  have  some- 
times misunderstood  the  motives  of  the  little 
actors  in  the  drama,  but  the  account  of  their 
actions  may  be  implicitly  relied  upon. 

Also  I  should  like  to  explain  how  a  lover  of 
free  birds  can  endure  to  keep  them  in  confine- 
ment. Each  inhabitant  of  a  cage  in  my  house 
has  been  liberated  from  the  positive  discomforts 
of  a  bird-store,  and  besides  the  unwearied  effort 
to  make  their  lives  happy  and  as  free  as  pos- 
sible in  a  room,  the  moment  one  shows  a  desire 


vi  INTRODUCTORY. 

for  the  world  outside  my  windows,  he  is  gladly 
allowed  to  depart. 

Chapter  V.  is  reprinted  from  "  Harper's  Mag- 
azine," by  courtesy  of  the  proprietors. 

OLIVE  THORNE  MILLER. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

I.  THE  BIRD  OP  THE  MORNING 1 

American  Robin.     Turdus  migratorius. 

II.   THE  BIRD  or  SOLITUDE 13 

Wood  Thrush.     Turdus  mustelinus. 

III.  A  GENTLE  SPIRIT 31 

Wood  Thrush. 

IV.  A  WINTER  BIRD-STUDY 41 

European  Song  Thrush.     Turdus  musicus. 

V.  IN  THE  CAT-BIRD'S  NOOK 61 

Cat-bird.     Mimus  Carolinensis. 
VI.   "  TRICKS  AND  MANNERS  "  OF  A  CAT-BIRD   .    .    73 

VII.  THE  BIRD  OF  SOCIETY 93 

Redwing  Blackbird.     Argelceus  phceniceus. 

VIII.   UPON  THE  TREE-TOP 109 

Baltimore  Oriole.     Icterus  galbula. 
IX.  TRANSIENT  GUESTS  IN  THE  BIRD-ROOM    .    .    .131 

X.  A  RUFFIAN  IN  FEATHERS 151 

House  Sparrow.     Passer  domesticus. 

XI.  A  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  MAPLE-TREE 161 

House  Sparrow. 


yiii  CONTENTS. 

XII.   TROUBLE  IN  THE  HONEYSUCKLES 173 

House  Sparrow. 

XIII.  THE  BIRD  or  THE  STREET 183 

House  Sparrow. 

XIV.  THESE  ARE  YOUR  BROTHERS    .     .    ...    .    .  201 

House  Sparrow. 


THE   BIRD  OF  THE  MORNING. 


"The  bird  for  all  Nature  chants  the  morning  hymn  and 
the  benediction  of  the  day.  He  is  her  priest  and  her  augur, 
her  divine  and  innocent  voice."  —  MICHELET. 


S1TY  J 


I. 

THE  BIRD  OF  THE   MORNING. 


IF  every  bird  has  his  vocation,  as  a  poetical 
French  writer  suggests,  that  of  the  American 
robin  must  be  to  inspire  cheerfulness  and  con- 
tentment in  men.  His  joyous  "  Cheer  up ! 
Cheer  up  !  Cheery !  Be  cheery  !  Be  cheery !  " 
poured  out  in  the  early  morning  from  the  top 
branch  of  the  highest  tree  in  the  neighborhood, 
is  one  of  the  most  stimulating  sounds  of  spring. 
He  must  be  unfeeling  indeed  who  can  help  de- 
serting his  bed  and  peering  through  blinds  till 
he  discovers  the  charming  philosopher,  with 
head  erect  and  breast  glowing  in  the  dawning 
light,  forgetting  the  cares  of  life  in  the  ecstasy 
of  song. 

Besides  admonishing  others  to  cheerfulness, 
the  robin  sets  the  example.  Not  only  is  his 
cheering  voice  the  first  in  the  morning  and  the 
last  at  night,  —  of  the  day  birds,  —  but  no 
rain  is  wet  enough  to  dampen  his  spirits.  In  a 
drizzly,  uncomfortable  day,  when  all  other  birds 


4  THE  BIRD   OF   THE  MORNING. 

go  about  their  necessary  tasks  of  food-hunting 
in  dismal  silence,  the  robin  is  not  a  whit  less 
happy  than  when  the  sun  shines ;  and  his 
cheery  voice  rings  out  to  comfort  not  only  the 
inmates  of  the  damp  little  home  in  the  maple, 
but  the  owners  of  waterproofs  and  umbrellas 
who  mope  in  the  house. 

The  most  delightful  study  of  one  summer, 
not  long  ago,  was  the  daily  life,  the  joys  and 
sorrows,  of  a  family  of  robins,  whose  pretty 
castle  in  the  air  rested  on  a  stout  fork  of  a 
maple-tree  branch  near  my  window.  Day  by 
day  I  watched  their  ways  till  I  learned  to  know 
them  well. 

The  seat  chosen  for  observations  was  under  a 
tree  on  the  lawn,  which  happened  to  be  the 
robin's  hunting-ground;  and  here  I  sat  for 
hours  at  a  time,  quietly  looking  on  at  his.  work, 
and  listening  to  the  robin  talk  around  me  ;  the 
low,  confidential  chat  in  the  tree  where  the  little 
wife  was  busy,  the  lively  gossip  across  the 
street  with  neighbors  in  another  tree,  the  warn- 
ing "  Tut !  tut !  "  when  a  stranger  appeared, 
the  war  cry  when  an  intruding  .bird  was  to  be 
driven  away,  and  the  joyous  "  Pe-e-p !  tut,  tut, 
tut !  "  when  he  alighted  on  the  fence  and  sur- 
veyed the  lawn  before  him,  flapping  bis  wings 
and  jerking  his  tail  with  every  note. 

In  truth,  the  sounds  one  hears  in   a  robin 


THE  BIRD   OF  THE  MORNING.  5 

neighborhood  are  almost  as  various  as  those 
that  salute  his  ear  among  people :  the  laugh, 
the  cry,  the  scold,  the  gentle  word,  the  warn- 
ing, the  alarm,  and  many  others. 

When  I  first  took  my  seat  I  felt  like  an  in- 
truder, which  the  robin  plainly  considered  me 
to  be.  He  eyed  me  with  the  greatest  suspicion, 
alighting  on  the  ground  in  a  terrible  flutter,  re- 
solved to  brave  the  ogre,  yet  on  the  alert,  and 
ready  for  instant  flight  should  anything  threaten. 
The  moment  he  touched  the  ground,  he  would 
lower  his  head  and  run  with  breathless  haste 
five  or  six  feet ;  then  stop,  raise  his  head  as 
pert  as  a  daisy,  and  look  at  the  monster  to  see 
if  it  had  moved.  After  convincing  himself 
that  all  was  safe,  he  would  turn  his  eyes  down- 
ward, and  in  an  instant  thrust  his  bill  into  the 
soil  where  the  sod  was  thin,  throwing  up  a  lit- 
tle shower  of  earth,  and  doing  this  again  and 
again,  so  vehemently  that  sometimes  he  was 
taken  off  his  feet  by  the  jerk.  Then  he  would 
drag  out  a  worm,  run  a  few  feet  farther  in  a 
panic-stricken  way,  as  though  "  taking  his  life 
in  his  hands,"  again  look  on  the  ground,  and 
again  pull  out  a  worm ;  all  the  time  in  an  in- 
consequent manner,  as  though  he  had  nothing 
particular  on  his  mind,  and  merely  collected 
worms  by  way  of  passing  the  time. 

So  he  would  go  on,  never  eating  a  morsel, 


6  THE  BIRD   OF   THE  MORNING. 

but  gathering  worms  till  he  had  three  or  four 
of  the  wriggling  creatures  hanging  from  his 
firm  little  beak.  Then  he  would  fly  to  a  low 
branch,  run  up  a  little  way,  take  another  short 
flight,  and  thus  having,  as  he  plainly  intended 
by  this  zigzag  course,  completely  deceived  the 
observer  as  to  his  destination,  he  would  slip 
quietly  to  the  nest  and  quickly  dispose  of  his 
load.  In  half  a  minute  he  was  back  again,  run- 
ning and  watching,  and  digging  as  before.  And 
this  work  he  kept  up  nearly  all  day.  In  si- 
lence, too,  for  noisy  and  talkative  as  the  bird  is, 
he  keeps  his  mouth  shut  when  on  the  ground. 
In  all  my  watching  of  robins  for  years  in  sev- 
eral places,  I  scarcely  ever  heard  one  make  a 
sound  when  on  the  ground,  near  a  human 
dwelling. 

Once  I  was  looking  through  blinds,  and  the 
bird  did  not  see  me.  He  had,  after  much  labor, 
secured  an  unusually  large  worm,  and  it  lay  a 
few  inches  away  where  it  fell  as  he  gave  it  the 
final  "  yank."  This  was  an  extraordinary  case  ; 
the  robin  was  too  full  to  hold  in,  and  there 
bubbled  out  of  his  closed  bill  a  soft  "  Cheery ! 
cheery  !  be  cheery  ! "  hardly  above  a  whisper 
and  half  frightened  withal.  Then  snatching 
the  trophy  he  flew  away,  doubtless  to  show  his 
luck,  and  tell  his  tale  at  home. 

The  robin  has  been  accused  of  being  quarrel- 


THE  BIRD    OF  THE  MORNING.  7 

some ;  and  to  be  sure  he  does  defend  his  home 
with  vigor,  driving  away  any  bird  which  ven- 
tures to  alight  on  his  special  maple-tree,  some- 
times with  a  loud  cry  of  defiance,  and  again 
without  a  sound,  but  fairly  flinging  himself 
after  the  intruder  so  furiously  that  not  even  the 
king-bird  —  noted  as  a  tyrant  over  much  larger 
birds  —  can  withstand  him.  But  jealous  as  he 
is  of  his  own,  he  is  equally  ready  to  assist  a 
neighbor  in  trouble.  One  day  while  I  was 
studying  him  a  great  uproar  arose  in  the  or- 
chard. Robin  voices  were  heard  in  loud  cries, 
and  instantly  those  near  the  house  took  wing 
for  the  scene  of  distress.  With  my  glass  I 
could  see  many  robins  flying  about  one  spot, 
and  diving  one  after  another  into  the  grass, 
where  there  was  a  great  commotion  and  cries 
of  some  other  creature,  — I  thought  a.  hen.  The 
robins  were  furious,  and  the  fight  grew  very 
warm,  while  every  now  and  then  a  small  object 
was  tossed  into  the  air. 

Hurrying  down  to  the  scene  of  the  warfare, 
I  found  that  the  creature  in  the  grass  was  a  , 
hen-turkey  with  one  chick.  She  was  wild  with 
rage,  shaking  and  tossing  up  what  looked  like 
another  young  turkey,  and  the  robins,  evidently 
taking  the  side  of  the  victim,  were  delivering 
sharp  pecks  and  scolding  vigorously.  Securing 
with  some  difficulty  the  object  of  her  fury,  I 


8  THE  BIRD   OF  THE  MORNING. 

found  it  to  be  a  young  robin,  which  had  fallen 
from  a  nest,  and  which,  no  doubt,  the  usually 
meek  turkey  thought  threatened  danger  to  her 
own  infant. 

The  poor  little  fellow  was  too  badly  hurt  to 
live,  and  although  the  turkey  was  removed, 
some  time  passed  before  calmness  was  restored 
to  the  neighborhood.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the 
chatter  in  the  trees  that  evening  was  kept  up 
longer  than  usual,  and  I  fancied  that  every  little 
youngster  still  living  in  the  nest  heard  the  dire- 
ful tale,  and  received  a  solemn  warning. 

I  was  surprised  to  discover,  in  my  close  atten- 
tion to  them,  that  although  early  to  rise,  robins 
are  by  no  means  early  to  bed.  Long  after  every 
feather  was  supposed  to  be  at  rest  for  the  night, 
I  would  sit  out  and  listen  to  the  gossip,  the  last 
words,  the  scraps  of  song,  —  different  in  every 
individual  robin,  yet  all  variations  on  the  theme 
"  Be  cheery,"  —  and  often  the  sharp  "  He  he  he 
he  he !  "  so  like  a  girl's  laugh,  out  of  the  shad- 
owy depths  of  the  maple. 

Once  I  saw  a  performance  that  looked  as  if 
the  robin  wanted  to  play  a  joke  "  with  intent 
to  deceive."  Hearing  a  strange  bird-note,  ag 
usual  I  hastened  to  my  post.  From  the  depths 
of  a  thick  chestnut-tree  came  every  moment 
a  long-drawn-out,  mournful  "S-e-e-e-p!"  as 
though  some  bird  was  calling  its  mate.  It  was 


THE  BIRD   OF  THE  MORNING.  9 

not  very  loud,  but  it  was  urgent,  and  I  looked 
the  tree  over  very  carefully  with  my-  opera- 
glass  before  I  caught  sight  of  the  culprit,  and 
was  amazed  to  see  the  robin.  The  tone  was  so 
entirely  unlike  any  I  ever  heard  from  him  that 
I  should  not  have  suspected  him  even  then,  but 
I  saw  him  in  the  very  act.  No  sooner  did  he 
notice  that  he  was  observed  than  he  gave  a  loud 
mocking  "  He  he  he !  "  and  flew  across  the  lawn 
to  his  own  tree. 

One  morning  he  was  not  to  be  seen  at  his 
usual  work,  but  a  furious  calling  came  from  the 
other  side  of  the  lawn.  It  was  anxious  and 
urgent,  and  it  was  incessant.  I  resolved  to  see 
what  was  the  matter.  Stealing  quietly  along, 
I  came  in  sight  of  the  bird,  loudly  calling,  flut- 
tering his  wings,  and  in  evident  trouble,  though 
I  could  not  imagine  the  cause,  until  looking 
closely  I  saw  perched  on  a  branch  of  a  cedar- 
tree  a  fat,  stupid-looking  bird,  fully  as  big  as 
the  robin,  and  covered  with  feathers,  but  with  a 
speckled  breast,  and  no  tail  worth  mentioning. 

There  he  sat,  like  a  lump  of  dough,  head 
down  in  his  shoulders,  and  bill  sticking  almost 
straight  up,  and  neither  the  tenderest  coaxing 
nor  the  loudest  scolding  moved  him  in  the  least. 
In  fact,  I  thought  he  was  dead,  till  the  opera- 
glass  showed  that  he  winked.  But  stupid  as  he 
looked,  he  was  the  darling  of  the  heart  in  that 


10  THE  BIRD  OF   THE  MORNING. 

little  red  breast,  and  the  parent  fluttered  wildly 
about  while  I  found  a  stick,  and  jarred  the 
branch  slightly  as  a  gentle  hint  that  he  should 
obey  his  papa.  That  started  the  youngster,  and 
away  he  flew,  as  well  as  anybody,  to  the  other 
side  of  the  walk. 

Wondering  why  the  mother  did  not  take  part 
in  this  training,  I  peeped  into  the  nest,  where  I 
found  her  sitting,  and  I  concluded  she  must  be 
raising  a  second  family.  It  was  indeed  time 
for  that  grown-up  baby  to  learn  to  care  for  him- 
self, before  there  was  another  family  to  feed. 
While  I  was  looking  at  the  nest  and  its  fright- 
ened yet  brave  little  owner,  the  young  robin 
came  back  and  alighted  on  the  ground,  and  so 
proud  and  happy  yet  so  anxious  a  parent  is 
rarely  seen.  It  was  soon  evident  that  this  was 
Master  Robin's  first  lesson  in  the  worm  busi- 
ness ;  he  was  now  to  be  taught  the  base  of  sup- 
plies, and  I  kept  very  quiet  while  the  scene 
went  on.  The  father  would  hop  ahead  a  few 
feet  and  call  persuasively,  "  Come  on  ! "  The 
awkward  youngling  answered  loudly,  "  Wait ! 
wait !  "  Then  he  would  hop  a  few  steps,  and 
papa  would  dig  up  a  worm  to  show  him  how, 
and  tenderly  offer  it  as  a  slight  lunch  after 
his  exertion.  So  they  went  on,  that  clumsy 
and  greedy  youngster  induced  by  his  desire  for 
worms,  while  the  patient  teacher  encouraged, 


THE  BIRD   OF  THE  MORNING.  11 

and  worked  for  him.  As  for  making  an  effort 
for  himself,  the  notion  never  entered  his  head. 

Not  long  after  I  saw  one  of  the  same  brood 
seated  on  a  twig  and  asking  to  be  fed.  I  was 
quite  near,  and  the  robin  papa  hesitated  to 
come.  Master  Robin  called  more  and  more 
sharply,  drawing  up  his  wings  without  opening 
them,  exactly  like  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders, 
and  jerking  his  body  in  such  a  way  that  it 
looked  like  stamping  his  foot.  It  was  a  funny 
exhibition  of  youthful  imperiousness,  and  re- 
sembled what  in  a  child  we  call  "  spunkiness." 

One  of  the  most  interesting  entertainments 
of  the  later  days  was  to  hear  the  young  bird's 
music  lesson.  In  the  early  morning  the  father 
would  place  himself  in  the  thickest  part  of  the 
tree,  not  as  usual  in  plain  sight  on  the  top,  and 
with  his  pupil  near  him  would  begin,  "  Cheery  ! 
cheery  !  be  cheery !  "  in  a  loud,  clear  voice  ;  and 
then  would  follow  a  feeble,  wavering,  uncertain 
attempt  to  copy  the  song.  Again  papa  would 
chant  the  first  strain,  and  baby  would  pipe  out 
his  funny  notes.  This  was  kept  up,  till  in  a 
surprisingly  short  time,  after  much  daily  prac- 
tice both  with  the  copy  and  without,  I  could 
hardly  tell  father  from  son. 

The  baby  robin  taken  apart  from  his  kind  is 
an  interesting  study.  Before  he  can  fairly  bal- 
ance himself  on  his  uncertain,  wavering  little 


12  THE  BIRD    OF  THE  MORNING. 

legs,  or  lay  claim  to  more  than  the  promise  of 
a  tail,  he  displays  the  brave,  self-reliarxt  spirit 
of  his  race.  He  utters  loud,  defiant  calls,  pecks 
boldly  at  an  intruding  hand,  and  stands  —  as 
well  as  he  is  able  —  staring  one  full  in  the  face 
without  blinking,  asserting  by  his  attitude  and 
by  every  bristling  feather  that  he  is  a  living 
being, — he  too  has  an  u  inalienable  right  to  life, 
liberty,  etc. ; "  and,  in  the  depths  of  your  soul, 
you  cannot  gainsay  him.  If  you  have  already, 
in  his  helpless  infancy,  made  him  captive,  the 
blush  of  shame  arises,  and  you  involuntarily 
throw  wide  the  prison  doors. 

To  return  to  my  study ;  when  the  maple 
leaves  turned  in  the  fall,  and  the  little  home  in 
the  tree  was  left  empty  and  desolate,  I  had  it 
brought  down  to  examine.  It  was  a  curious 
and  remarkably  well-made  nest,  being  a  perfect 
cup  of  clay,  a  little  thicker  around  the  top,  well 
moulded,  and  covered  inside  and  out  with  dry 
grass.  This  snug  cottage  of  clay  has  been  the 
scene  of  some  of  the  sweetest  experiences  of  all 
lives,  great  as  well  as  small.  For  the  happiness 
it  has  held  I  will  preserve  it :  and  thus  moral- 
izing I  placed  it  on  a  bracket  in  memory  of  a 
delightful  study  of  the  Bird  of  the  Morning. 


THE  BIRD   OF  SOLITUDE. 


'  The  little  bird  sits  at  his  door  in  the  sun 
Atilt  like  a  blossom  among  the  leaves, 
And  lets  his  illumined  being  o'errun 
With  the  deluge  of  summer  it  receives ; 
His  mate  feels  her  eggs  beneath  her  wings, 
And  the  heart  in  her  dumb  breast  flutters  and  sings 
He  sings  to  the  wide  world,  and  she  to  her  nest. 
In  the  nice  ear  of  Nature  which  song  is  the  best  ? " 

LOWELL. 


II. 

THE  BIRD  OF  SOLITUDE. 


WHEN  from  some  deep,  secluded  wood  you 
hear  the  rich,  flute-like  notes  of  a  "  bird  in  the 
solitude  singing,"  turn  instantly  from  the  path, 
follow  in  silence  that  enticing  voice,  and  you 
may  at  last  come  near  the  mysterious  songster. 
If,  happily,  you  are  able  to  locate  sound,  you 
may  be  further  charmed  by  sight  of  him,  glow- 
ing with  musical  ardor;  but  if  not,  you  may 
search  the  woods  vainly,  so  motionless  is  he,  and 
so  completely  do  the  soft  tints  of  his  plumage 
harmonize  in  coloring  with  the  branch  upon 
which  he  stands.  He  is  worthy  this  careful  fol- 
lowing :  he  is  the  most  beautiful,  the  finest  in 
song,  and  the  noblest  in  character  of  the  winged 
order  in  America.  He  is  the  wood  thrush. 

Sometimes,  when  you  thus  come  upon  him, 
you  will  find  madam  his  spouse  upon  a  lower 
branch  of  the  same  tree.  She  will  not  fly; 
wild  panic  is  not  in  the  thrush.  She  will  stand 
and  look  at  you,  expressing  her  disapproval  by 


16  THE  BIRD  OF  SOLITUDE. 

a  lively  "  quit !  quit !  "  at  the  same  time  raising 
the  feathers  of  head,  neck,  and  shoulders,  till 
she  appears  to  be  adorned  with  a  high  ruff  and 
shoulder  cape.  If  you  refuse  to  take  the  hint 
and  move  away,  she  will  finally  drop  her  voice 
into  a  low  "tut,  tut,"  showing  her  excitement 
by  quick,  nervous  jerks  of  both  wings  and  tail. 
After  a  little,  her  demonstrations  will  bring  to 
her  side  the  beautiful  singer  himself.  Like  a 
feather  he  alights  on  the  branch,  the  perfect 
copy  of  his  mate.  A  few  low  remarks,  evi- 
dently derogatory  to  you,  are  exchanged,  and 
away  they  fly  together. 

Should  you  come  too  near  the  singer,  when 
alone,  or  should  something  in  your  manner 
arouse  his  suspicions,  he  will  slip  down  behind 
the  tree  or  shrub  he  is  on,  and  depart  so  silently 
and  so  near  the  ground  that  you  neither  see  nor 
hear  him.  The  first  intimation  of  his  flight  will 
be  his  song  afar  off,  when  it  will  seem  to  you 
that  he  is  a  phantom,  a  mere  wandering  voice. 

The  song  of  this  bird  defies  description, 
though  it  has  inspired  both  extravagant  and 
poetical  attempts  in  the  most  prosaic  of  writers. 
When  heard  from  a  distance,  it  sounds  very 
deliberate :  a  succession  of  detached  passages, 
with  frequent  pauses,  ending  in  a  trill,  some- 
times easily  distinguished  as  such,  but  often  so 
rapidly  delivered  that  it  resembles  the  syllable 


THE  BIRD   OF  SOLITUDE.  17 

"che-e-e"  with  a  peculiar  and  indescribable 
thrill  in  it.  If  you  are  near,  however,  you  will 
find  the  pauses  filled  with  low  notes,  having, 
apparently,  no  connection  with  the  song.  One 
cannot  but  fancy  them  to  be  irrepressible  words 
of  endearment,  ineffably  sweet  and  tender,  and 
wonderfully  enhancing  the  charm  of  the  per- 
formance. 

He  is  not  chary  of  his  gift.  He  sings  at  all 
hours  of  the  day,  excepting  in  the  heat  of  noon  ; 
but  he  seems  most  keenly  to  enjoy  the  fading 
light  of  afternoon  and  the  evening,  till  long 
after  dark.  Not  a  little  of  the  mystery  and 
melancholy  that  poetical  minds  find  in  his 
music  is  due  to  the  thoughtful  twilight  hours 
in  which  it  is  heard.  It  is  in  itself  far  from 
sadness.  Indeed,  there  can  be  no  more  perfect 
picture  of  deep  joy  than  this  beautiful  bird, 
standing  tranquilly  on  his  branch,  while  giving 
slow  utterance  to  notes  that  thrill  your  soul. 

The  weather  is  a  matter  of  no  moment  to 
the  wood  thrush  ;  he  has  a  soul  above  externals. 
Other  birds  may  be  full  of  song,  or  moping  on 
their  perches ;  be  it  wet  or  dry,  sunshine  or 
shade,  he  sings,  and  sings,  and  sings. 

"  Howsoe'er  the  world  goes  ill, 
The  thrushes  still  sing  in  it." 

The  strongest  attraction  of  a  certain  summer 
2 


18  THE  BIRD   OF  SOLITUDE. 

home  in  the  heart  of  the  Allegheny  Mountains 
is  the  song  of  this  bird.  Around  the  house 
feathered  visitors  are  always  numerous,  but  no 
wood  thrush  is  ever  seen.  Late  in  the  after- 
noon, however,  when  other  songsters  are  set- 
tling themselves  for  the  night,  and,  save  the 
robin  chatter,  no  sound  of  bird  is  heard,  out  of 
the  deep  woods  which  surround  the  small  clear- 
ing comes  the  stirring  evening  hymn  of  the 
thrush.  It  begins  with  a  clear,  far-off  prelude 
of  three  notes  on  an  ascending  scale;  then  a 
deliberate  rest,  followed  by  three  other  and 
different  notes,  and  ending  in  a  rapturous  trill. 
After  a  decorous  pause  another  takes  up  the 
strain.  There  is  no  haste,  no  interruption, 
never  a  clamor  of  song.  Each  one  enjoys  his 
full  length  of  time,  and  though  there  may  be  a 
dozen  singers  within  hearing,  there  is  no  con- 
fusion. Each  rich  solo  is  a  complete  whole, 
perfect  as  a  pearl.  To  sit  on  a  balcony  of  that 
house  through  the  long,  tranquil  hours  of  ap- 
proaching night,  listening  to  the  grand  and  lofty 
symphony,  is  a  never-to-be-forgotten  experi- 
ence ;  lifting  the  soul  above  the  earth,  into 
regions  of  poetry  and  dreams. 

The  wood  thrush  is  said  to  be  so  enamored 
of  solitude  and  deep  woods  that  he  may  be 
often  heard,  but  seldom  seen.  This  is  simply 
because  few  know  how  to  look  for  him.  He 


THE  BIRD   OF  SOLITUDE.  19 

does  love  the  woods,  but,  being  a  remarkably 
intelligent  bird,  he  is  not  shy,  and  unreasoning 
fright  is  unknown  to  him.  He  will  let  you  ap- 
proach quite  near,  fixing  his  soft,  bright  eyes 
upon  you  without  agitation,  to  learn  whether 
your  object  be  peace  or  war.  If  you  pause  at 
a  respectful  distance  and  remain  quiet,  he  will 
resume  his  song,  undisturbed. 

Then  the  position  he  selects  is  favorable  to 
concealment.  The  robin  and  oriole  pour  out 
their  melodies  from  the  topmost  twig  of  the 
tallest  tree,  in  plain  sight  of  all  the  world,  and 
the  cat-bird,  while  choosing  the  deepest  seclu- 
sion of  a  shrub,  keeps  so  constantly  in  motion 
that  he  cannot  escape  discovery.  The  thrush 
does  neither.  He  perches  upon  a  branch,  rarely 
a  twig.  It  is  often  the  lowest  branch  of  a  tree, 
and  quite  near  to  the  trunk.  In  several  years 
of  close  study  of  the  thrush,  following  the  song 
and  watching  many  singers,  I  have  but  once 
seen  one  sing  at  the  top  of  a  tree,  though  it  is 
true  that  my  observations  were  usually  in  the 
broad  daylight ;  for  the  evening  song  it  is  pos- 
sible that  he  may  select  a  higher  position. 

The  secret  of  hiding,  which  his  inconspicu- 
ous coloring  as  well  as  his  position  aid,  is  his 
habit  of  repose.  He  has  no  frivolous  flirt  of 
the  tail,  like  the  cat-bird ;  no  jerking  body,  like 
the  robin  ;  no  incessant  twitter,  like  the  hosts 


20  THE  BIRD   OF  SOLITUDE. 

of  smaller  birds.  It  is  his  instinct,  in  moments 
of  excitement,  to  remain  motionless  and  per- 
fectly silent.  If  you  do  not  look  exactly  at 
him,  you  may  almost  put  your  hand  upon  him 
before  he  stirs ;  and  even  then  he  will  glide 
away  almost  as  noiselessly  as  a  snake. 

The  easiest  way  to  discover  the  bird  in  his 
open  hiding-place  is  to  take  an  opera-glass,  and, 
having  placed  him  as  nearly  as  possible  by  ear, 
look  carefully  over  every  branch  of  the  tree, 
till  you  come  upon  him,  often  so  near  and  so 
plainly  in  sight  that  you  are  amazed  at  your 
own  blindness.  Nevertheless,  if  you  remove 
the  glass  from  your  eye  without  having  mi- 
nutely noted  his  surroundings,  you  will  not 
easily  find  him  again. 

If  then,  keeping  him  in  full  view,  you  remain 
quiet,  he  will  accept  your  attitude  as  one  of 
peace,  and  pay  no  more  attention  to  you,  and 
you  may  watch  him  as  long  as  you  choose ;  lis- 
tening to  the  little  ripples  of  talk,  the  low,  sigh- 
ing "  wee-o,"  not  unlike  the  cat-bird's  "mew," 
the  rich  "  tut-tut,"  and  the  soft  responses  of  his 
mate,  perhaps  brooding  over  the  lovely  treasure 
of  the  home  in  the  dogwood  -  tree,  perhaps 
standing,  as  motionless  and  hard  to  see  as  her 
spouse,  on  a  neighboring  branch. 

You  may  chance  thus  to  observe  him  after 
the  morning  bath,  in  which  he  delights ;  per- 


THE  BIRD   OF  SOLITUDE.  21 

forming  his  toilet,  smoothing  every  perfect 
plume,  or  sunning  himself,  puffed  out  like  a 
ball,  with  every  feather  on  end.  You  may  see 
him,  too,  when  suddenly  his  attention  is  ar- 
rested by  some  movement  or  sound  at  the  foot 
of  the  tree,  imperceptible  to  your  coarser 
senses  ;  and  he  dives  off  the  branch,  returning 
instantly  with  a  worm  or  grub,  which  he  will 
hold  in  his  bill  a  long  time,  entirely  undis- 
turbed by  its  wriggles  or  struggles,  till  he 
makes  up  his  mind  whether  you  mean  mischief, 
or  have  changed  your  position  while  he  was  en- 
gaged. 

Then,  too,  you  may  sometimes  chance  upon 
a  scene  of  agitation  even  in  the  serene  life  of  a 
thrush.  Following  an  unfamiliar  call  far  away 
from  the  path,  in  a  lonely  spot,  I  came  once 
upon  a  singular  sight :  six  or  eight  thrushes 
hopping  about  in  the  lower  branches  of  a  small 
tree,  in  a  way  very  unusual  with  them,  giving 
unceasing  utterance  to  the  sound  I  had  heard, 
a  low,  shuddering  cry,  and  all  with  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  ground.  Every  moment  or  two  one 
would  fly  away,  but  its  place  was  instantly 
filled  by  another,  so  that  the  number  in  the 
tree  remained  the  same,  and  the  strange  cry 
was  never  still.  Nestlings  were  all  out,  so  I 
knew  that  it  could  be  no  accident  to  a  little  one 
that  thus  aroused  them,  and  I  stole  quietly 


22  THE  BIRD   OF  SOLITUDE. 

nearer  through  the  tall  weeds,  where  I  found, 
crouching  in  this  ample  shelter,  the  cause  of 
the  excitement,  —  a  cat,  doubtless  on  breakfast 
intent.  On  seeing  me  she  ran,  and  every  bird 
followed,  hovering  over  her  wherever  she  placed 
herself ;  and  as  long  as  I  stayed,  that  day,  I 
could  tell  the  whereabouts  of  poor  puss  by  the 
tumult  above  her. 

Because  of  its  quiet  tints,  the  beautiful  plu- 
mage of  the  wood  thrush  is  often  underrated. 
Nothing  can  be  more  attractive  than  the  soft 
cinnamon  browns  of  his  back  and  wings,  and  the 
satiny  white  of  breast  and  under  parts,  tinged 
in  places  with  buff,  and  decorated  profusely 
with  lance-shaped  spots  of  brown. 

Lovers  of  birds  alive  and  free  have  reason  to 
rejoice  that  our  most  interesting  birds  are  not 
gaudy  in  coloring.  The  indiscriminate  and  ter- 
rible slaughter  of  these  beautiful  creatures,  to 
appear  in  some  horrible,  unnatural  position  on 
ladies'  hats,  is  surely  enough  to  make  the  most 
long-suffering  lover  of  nature  cry  out  in  grief 
and  pain.  To  me  —  let  me  say  it  frankly  — 
they  look  not  like  an  adornment  of  feathers, 
but  like  the  dead  bodies  of  birds,  foully  mur- 
dered to  minister  to  a  passing  fashion. 

There  is  one  interesting  peculiarity  of  color- 
ing in  the  breast  feathers  of  this  bird.  Snowy 
white  as  they  appear  on  the  outside,  they  are 


THE  BIRD   OF  SOLITUDE.  23 

for  three  quarters  of  their  length  a  dark  slate 
color,  so  that  where  the  plumage  is  parted  in 
performing  the  toilet,  it  looks  like  black  plush. 
Closely  examined,  too,  with  a  common  magni- 
fying-glass,  every  tiniest  barb  of  the  feather  is 
found  to  be  ringed,  dark. slate  and  white,  an  ex- 
quisitely beautiful  object. 

I  know  of  no  bird  with  more  strongly  marked 
character  than  the  wood  thrush.  First  to  be 
noticed  is  his  love  of  quiet.  Not  only  does  ho 
prefer  the  solitary  parts  of  the  woods,  but  he 
especially  avoids  the  neighborhood  of  his  social 
cousin,  the  robin.  The  chattering,  the  constant 
noise,  the  curiosity,  the  general  fussiness,  of 
that  garrulous  bird  are  intolerable  to  his  more 
reposeful  relative.  He  may  be  found  living 
harmoniously  among  many  varieties  of  smaller 
birds,  and  he  even  shows  no  dislike  of  the  cat- 
bird; but  come  into  a  robin  haunt,  and  you 
may  look  in  vain  for  a  wood  thrush. 

Then  his  gravity.  When  a  thrush  has  noth- 
ing to  do,  he  does  nothing.  He  scorns  to  amuse 
himself  with  senseless  chatter,  or  aimless  flit- 
ting from  twig  to  twig.  When  he  wants  a 
worm,  he  seeks  a  worm,  and  eats  it  leisurely ; 
and  then  he  stands  quietly  till  he  wants  an- 
other, or  something  else.  Even  in  the  nest  the 
baby  thrush  is  dignified.  No  clamor  comes 
from  this  youngster  when  his  parent  approaches 


24  THE  BIRD   OF  SOLITUDE. 

with  food.  On  such  occasions  the  young  robin 
calls  vociferously,  jerks  himself  about,  flutters 
his  wings,  and  in  every  way  shows  the  impa- 
tience of  his  disposition.  The  young  thrush 
sits  silent,  quivering  with  expectation,  while  the 
parent,  slightly  lifting  the  wings,  pops  the 
sweet  morsel  into  the  waiting  mouth ;  but  no 
impatience  and  no  cries. 

There  is,  however,  a  time  when  the  thrush  is 
somewhat  noisy,  —  when  the  young  are  in  dan- 
ger. One  day,  while  slowly  walking  through  a 
secluded  path,  in  a  piece  of  woods  beloved  of 
thrushes,  I  came  suddenly  upon  a  young  thrush, 
almost  under  my  hand.  It  was  sitting  in  the 
forks  of  a  branch,  three  feet  from  the  ground, 
perfectly  motionless,  but  watching  me  intently. 
I  brought  my  hand  down  carefully,  and  just  as 
it  was  closing —  softly,  for  fear  of  injury  —  the 
little  creature  slipped  out  from  under,  and  dis- 
appeared in  the  bushes.  The  parents,  as  soon 
as  it  escaped,  began  loud  though  not  harsh 
cries ;  perhaps  to  distract  my  attention,  per- 
haps to  direct  or  cheer  the  little  one.  I  have 
no  doubt  that  the  youngster  was  crouched  in 
plain  sight  not  three  feet  from  where  I  stood ; 
but  although  I  searched  every  inch  of  ground, 
not  a  glimpse  did  I  get  of  it,  in  spite  of  my  as- 
surance that  it  was  near  all  the  time. 

The  wood  thrush  is  very  decided  in  his  taste 


THE  BIRD   OF  SOLITUDE.  25 

about  his  surroundings.  He  prefers  woods 
where  no  grass  grows,  since  he  never  seeks  his 
worms  in  the  sod,  as  does  the  robin.  No  lawn, 
however  tempting,  is  the  scene  of  his  labors. 
In  a  certain  park  where  I  have  frequently 
watched  him,  he  is  bold  in  looking  for  food; 
coming  within  three  feet  of  a  person  while 
gathering  the  crumbs  he  has  learned  to  expect 
on  the  walks,  and  though  keeping  a  watchful 
eye  upon  one,  not  disturbed  so  long  as  the  ob- 
server is  still.  But  when  this  variation  upon 
his  usual  fare  is  secured,  he  retires  to  a  spot 
more  remote  from  park  frequenters,  to  sing,  and 
in  due  time  to  establish  his  home. 

He  is  one  of  the  most  intelligent  of  our  birds, 
and  absolutely  seems  to  reason.  He  plainly 
does  not  take  your  motives  for  granted,  but  re- 
serves his  decision  till  he  has  studied  you  or  has 
seen  some  indication  of  your  intentions.  He 
looks  you  squarely  in  the  face,  with  perfect 
calmness ;  not  turning  his  head  on  one  side,  and 
never  becoming  uneasy  under  your  most  steady 
gaze.  He  is  graceful  and  elegant  in  movement 
and  refined  in  his  manners,  and  every  one  who 
has  attentively  observed  birds  will  know  that  • 
these  are  genuine  distinctions. 

Then  he  is  a  paragon  of  good  temper.  One 
cannot  conceive  of  a  thrush  as  ruffled  with  pas- 
sion, quarreling  with  his  neighbor,  or  driving 


26  THE  BIRD    OF  SOLITUDE. 

a  strange  bird  away.  One  cannot  imagine  a 
harsh  sound  out  of  that  "  most  musical "  throat. 
And  aside  from  fancy,  as  a  simple  matter  of 
fact,  I  have  never  noticed  the  smallest  sign  of 
temper  or  harshness.  Even  the  cries  of  distress 
have  peculiar  richness  of  tone. 

Having  for  some  years  lovingly  studied  the 
ways  of  this  little  creature,  and  wishing  to  ob- 
serve him  more  closely,  I  desired  to  add  a  wood 
thrush  to  the  birds  which  fly  about  my  house. 
To  this  end  I  made  a  tour  of  the  bird  stores  of 
New  York,  and  thus  I  learned,  from  disgusted 
dealers,  another  interesting  characteristic  of  the 
high-spirited  fellow.  So  fond  is  he  of  liberty 
that  he  will  not  sing  in  confinement.  His  Euro- 
pean cousin,  the  song  thrush  (or  throstle  of  Eng- 
land), unfortunately  for  his  freedom,  reconciles 
himself  more  easily  to  captivity,  and  is  to  be 
found  in  all  shops.  My  answers  were  a  disap- 
pointing monotony  :  "  The  American  thrush  is 
no  good  ;  he  will  not  sing,"  —  an  opinion,  by  the 
way,  in  which  these  practical  gentry  differ  from 
Audubon,  who  is  quoted  as  saying  that  they 
sing  nearly  as  well  in  confinement  as  when  free. 
This  is  hard  to  believe.  The  thrush's  song 
seems  more  than  that  of  any  other  bird  to  em- 
body the  spirit  of  freedom,  and  to  come  from 
an  untroubled  soul. 

In  my  search,  however,  I  chanced  upon  an- 


THE  BIRD   OF  SOLITUDE.  27 

other  American  thrush,  the  hermit  thrush.  He 
also  is  not  a  regular  bird-store  product,  being 
neither  gay-colored  nor  noisy.  This  individ- 
ual was  caught  with  an  injured  wing,  and  was 
so  little  regarded  in  that  motley  collection  of 
screaming  parrots  and  shrieking  canaries  that 
the  price  put  upon  him  was  insultingly  low. 
To  soften  my  disappointment,  I  brought  him 
home,  and  a  more  interesting  fellow  I  never 
saw. 

Upon  opening  the  box  in  which  he  had-  made 
the  journey,  he  showed  not  the  least  alarm.  He 
sat  calmly  on  the  bottom  and  looked  at  me.  In 
a  moment  or  two  he  hopped  on  to  the  edge 
of  the  box,  and  then,  seeing  a  perch  conven- 
iently near,  he  stepped  upon  that,  and  began 
to  straighten  his  feathers  and  put  himself  in 
order. 

He  had  been  in  captivity  but  two  or  three 
days,  yet  he  was  never  for  an  instant  wild,  and 
was  the  most  quiet  bird  in  the  house.  He  sel- 
dom made  a  sound.  Occasionally  he  uttered  a 
high,  sharp  "s-e-e-p,"  like  an  insect  sound,  with- 
out opening  the  bill ;  and  that  was  all,  until  he 
encountered  the  looking-glass. 

Having  kept  him  in  a  cage  a  few  days,  to 
teach  him  that  it  was  his  home,  I  opened  the 
door,  as  I  do  with  all  my  cages.  He  came  out 
at  once,  which  birds  rarely  do,  investigated  my 


28  THE  BIRD   OF  SOLITUDE. 

room  without  fear,  alighting  on  my  chair,  tak- 
ing worms  from  the  hand,  trying  to  make 
friends  with  an  English  song  thrush,  twice  his 
size,  —  meeting,  by  the  way,  with  no  response, 
—  and  finding  his  way  back  to  his  cage  without 
trouble,  which  again  is  unusual. 

As  with  all  birds,  the  pincushion  was  a  source 
of  interest  to  him,  and  I  was  interested  to  see 
how  differently  from  any  other  he  treated  the 
obnoxious  pinheads.  He  did  not  pounce  upon 
them,  driving  them  farther  in,  as  did  the  cat- 
bird, but  he  seized  each  head  in  his  bill,  and 
tried  to  jerk  it  out.  This  would  have  been 
somewhat  too  successful,  only  that  his  efforts 
were  in  a  sidewise  direction,  and  of  course  the 
pins  would  not  come.  In  a  few  days,  however, 
he  learned  how  to  manage  them,  when  his  great 
pleasure  was  to  pull  them  all  out  and  throw 
them  on  the  floor,  leaning  over  the  edge  of  the 
bureau  to  hear  each  one  fall  on  the  matting, 
and  then  to  go  down  himself,  and  pass  each  one 
through  his  bill  from  head  to  point,  exactly  as 
he  did  a  meal-worm  before  swallowing  it.  The 
stiffness  of  the  pins  discouraged  him ;  he  never 
tried  to  make  a  meal  of  them. 

His  experience  with  the  looking-glass  was 
most  melancholy,  till  I  covered  it  up,  in  pity. 

The  instant  he  caught  sight  of  himself,  —  of 
his  own  reflection,  rather,  —  he  would  drop  his 


THE  BIRD  OF  SOLITUDE.  29 

wings,  raise  head  and  tail,  and  in  that  curious 
position  strut  around  before  the  glass  ;  calling 
softly,  with  the  sweetest  and  most  tender  twit- 
tering, though  so  low  it  could  scarcely  be  heard. 
After  some  time  of  this  coaxing,  he  would  be- 
come disheartened,  and  stand  motionless,  with 
feathers  puffed  out,  staring  at  the  bird  in  the 
glass,  and  looking  so  grieved  and  unhappy  that 
I  could  not  endure  it,  but  drew  a  shield  before 
that  misleading  piece  of  furniture. 

He  never  showed  the  least  fear  of  me,  and 
grew  more  familiar  every  day.  But  I  had  him 
only  a  month.  One  evening  he  was  well  and 
lively  as  usual ;  the  next  morning  I  found  him 
dead  on  the  floor,  to  my  great  surprise  and 
grief. 


A  GENTLE  SPIRIT. 


"  With  what  a  clear 

And  ravishing  sweetness  sang  the  plaintive  thrush ! 
I  love  to  hear  his  delicate  rich  voice, 
Chanting  through  all  the  gloomy  day,  when  loud 
Amid  the  trees  is  dropping  the  big  rain, 
And  gray  mists  wrap  the  hills  ;  for  aye  the  sweeter 
His  song  is  when  the  day  is  sad  and  dark." 

LONGFELLOW. 


III. 

A  GENTLE  SPIRIT. 


SOME  months  after  my  experience  with  the 
hermit  thrush,  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  come 
into  possession  of  a  wood  thrush,  and  for  nearly 
half  a  year  now  have  had  him  under  constant 
observation.  I  find  in  his  ways  nothing  to  con- 
tradict what  I  have  said  of  his  wild  relatives, 
but  something  to  add  to  that  record. 

My  bird  has  a  lovely  gentleness  of  disposi- 
tion, which  has  ample  opportunity  to  show  it- 
self in  a  room  with  three  or  four  companions. 
Tranquillity  is  his  delight,  and  for  sweet  peace 
he  will  accept  many  discomforts.  I  know  it  is 
genuine  love  of  quiet,  and  not  cowardice,  be- 
cause his  conduct  is  the  same  with  a  tiny  gold- 
finch as  with  the  birds  of  his  own  size. 

Twice  has  the  amiable  fellow  changed  his 
residence  to  please  a  neighbor.  When  he  came 
to  me  he  had  been  frightened  by  confinement 
in  a  box,  and  had  beaten  his  tail  feathers  out 
in  his  struggles,  so  that  he  looked  very  droll ; 
3 


34  A    GENTLE   SPIRIT. 

but  what  was  worse,  he  could  not  guide  himself 
well  in  flight.  To  facilitate  his  getting  in  and 
out  of  his  cage,  I  put  up  a  light  and  dainty  lad- 
der, from  the  floor  to  his  door.  This  pleased 
him  greatly,  and  he  used  it  constantly. 

After  the  thrush  bad  become  perfectly  at 
home,  I  added  to  the  family  a  new  bird,  some- 
what larger  than  himself  —  a  Mexican  thrush. 
Upon  opening  the  door  of  the  stranger's  cage, 
and  inducing  him  to  come  out  arid  get  ac- 
quainted with  us  (which  I  did  with  some  diffi- 
culty and  much,  coaxing),  I  discovered  that*  he, 
too,  had  suffered  at  the  hands  of  men.  He  had 
lost  two  or  three  feathers  from  his  wing,  so  that 
while  not  in  the  least  disfigured,  he  found  it. 
hard  to  get  about.  He  almost  immediately 
learned  to  make  use  of  the  thrush's  doorsteps, 
and  after  a  day  or  two  made  up  his  mind  to 
live  in  a  house  .so  convenient  to  reach,  and 
quietly  took  possession.  Once  or  twice  the 
rightful  owner  approached  the  door,  but  seeing 
his  place  occupied  calmly  retired  to  the  usur- 
per's cage,  and  contentedly  remained  there, 
showing  neither  anger  nor  sulkiness.  Of 
course  I  attended  to  his  comfort,  and  provided 
a  second  ladder  for  his  use,  hoping  that  the 
Mexican  would  return  to  his  own  quarters. 
But  he  was  satisfied  where  he  was,  and  dis- 
dained to  touch  the  new  ladder. 


A    GENTLE  SPIRIT.  35 

The  wood  thrush  was  well  settled  and  at 
home  in  the  Mexican's  cage,  when  a  mocking- 
bird came  to  live  in  the  room.  Strange  to  say, 
no  sooner  did  the  latter  bird  gain  the  freedom 
of  the  place  than  he  coolly  made  choice  of  the 
thrush's  second  home  for  his  own.  The  gentle 
bird  was  not  disturbed  ;  seeing  how  matters 
stood  with  his  new  neighbor  he  quickly  recon- 
ciled himself  to  the  mocking-bird's  discarded 
residence  and  was  happy  as  ever.  Now,  after 
many  weeks,  the  mocking-bird  will  occupy 
sometimes  one,  sometimes  the  other  of  the  two 
cages  (which  stand  side  by  side),  but  the  thrush 
is  always  perfectly  contented  to  accept  either, 
and  make  himself  at  home  wherever  he  finds 
an  empty  cage. 

I  might  think  this  cowardice  —  as  I  said  — 
but  for  his  treatment  of  a  little  English  gold- 
finch, who  is  as  saucy  in  this  company  of  birds 
five  or  six  times  as  large  as  himself  as  though 
his  neighbors  were  of  his  own  size.  He  does 
not  hesitate  to  alight  beside  the  thrush,  stand- 
ing motionless  in  thrush  fashion,  on  top  of  his 
own  cage.  This  conduct  is  not  agreeable  to 
the  proprietor  ;  he  turns  and  looks  at  the  puny 
intruder,  and  then  starts  towards  him,  as  a  gen- 
tle hint  that  his  company  is  not  desired  in  that 
spot.  The  small  bird  not  only  refuses  to  move, 
but  actually  begins  to  scold.  The  thrush  draws 


36  A   GENTLE  SPIRIT. 

nearer  and  nearer,  the  goldfinch  scolds  louder 
and  loader,  shaking  his  wings  and  swelling  him- 
self to  look  as  formidable  as  possible  to  one  of 
his  few  inches.  I  have  seen  them  stand  ten 
minutes,  not  three  inches  apart,  the  smaller  bird 
scolding,  chattering,  and  even  uttering  snatches 
of  song,  while  the  thrush  simply  gazes  at  him, 
with  crown  feathers  erect,  and  feet  well  apart 
in  attitude  of  "  going  for  him."  Words  could 
not  be  plainer  than  his  manner,  which  says, 
"  How  that  little  rascal  can  have  the  imperti- 
nence to  defy  me  on  my  own  ground,  I  cannot 
understand  ; "  and,  as  though  it  were  a  puzzle 
he  determined  to  solve,  he  will  stand  and  stare, 
looking  at  his  small  foe  from  head  to  foot,  even 
touching  his  bill  with  his  own  in  an  experimen- 
tal sort  of  way,  while  the  goldfinch,  slightly 
puffed  out,  ready  for  flight  if  the  enemy  be- 
comes threatening,  twitters  and  scolds,  and 
sings  a  little  now  and  then. 

There  is  one  thing  in  which  the  thrush  shows 
a  little  selfishness.  Apple  is  his  greatest  treat. 
He  gets  it  in  small  slices  on  the  floor,  and  he 
cannot  endure  to  see  one  in  the  possession  of 
another  bird.  No  matter  how  fresh  may  be  his 
own,  to  see  a  bit  given  to  a  neighbor  arouses 
the  only  passion  I  have  seen  in  him.  Instantly 
he  abandons  the  piece  he  has,  and  starts  for  the 
other,  running  so  rapidly  across  the  floor  that 


A   GENTLE  SPIRIT. 


37 


he  is  unable  to  stop,  but  slides  past  the  spot,  on 
the  matting.  The  Mexican  successfully  resists 
his  attempt  to  possess  himself  of  the  new  piece ; 
the  mocking-bird  at  first  quailed  before  so  furi- 
ous an  onslaught,  but  later  learned  to  protect 
his  own  property,  although  for  a  few  days  the 
thrush  would  retain  possession  of  three  pieces 
in  three  parts  of  the  room,  by  driving  away  the 
mocking-bird  from  each  in  turn.  In  every 
other  thing,  even  meat,  of  which  he  is  exceed- 
ingly fond,  he  is  willing  to  share. 

When  I  enter  the  bird-room  with  a  piece  of 
fresh  beef  in  one  hand,  and  the  scissors  (with 
which  I  cut  it  into  tiny  strips  like  a  meal- 
worm) in  the  other,  the  thrush  will  fly  to  my 
hand,  alight  beside  the  meat,  and  stand  there 
while  I  feed  all  three  in  succession.  If  the 
Mexican  is  at  liberty  I  have  trouble,  for  he  is 
both  greedy  and  savage.  He  tries  to  snatch, 
fiercely  pecks  my  hand  if  I  give  to  another 
what  he  wants  himself,  and  lastly  flings  himself 
upon  the  bird  he  chooses  to  consider  his  rival. 
Since  he  is  the  largest  and  strongest  in  the 
room,  all  fly  before  him.  Consequently  I  dis- 
tribute the  meat  while  he  is  still  behind  the 
bars  of  the  cage. 

In  another  way  the  thrush  shows  that  he  is 
not  a  coward.  He  goes  down  into  the  waste- 
basket,  and  of  all  the  birds  I  have  kept,  he 


38  A   GENTLE  SPIRIT. 

is  the  only  one  who  has  dared  to  do  that.  Here- 
tofore that  receptacle  has  been  a  safe  place 
for  anything  denied  to  birds.  No  matter  how 
tempting  the  article,  I  knew  that  in  the  waste- 
basket,  away  from  the  outside,  it  would  not  be 
touched.  But  all  that  is  past :  the  thrush 
calmly  drops  into  the  mass  of  papers  and  rub- 
bish which  usually  half  fills  the  basket,  and 
seeks  the  bit  of  apple  or  bread,  or  whatever  has 
pleased  his  fancy  from  the  edge,  and  even  turns 
over  the  contents  in  search  of  treasures. 

Gentle,  amiable,  and  friendly  as  is  my  thrush, 
spending  much  time  oil  the  back  of  my  chair, 
my  desk,  my  shoulder  and  even  my  hand,  he 
does  not  like  to  be  taken  in  the  hands,  as  in- 
deed no  bird  does.  Once  or  twice  it  has  become 
necessary  for  me  to  do  so,  and  on  such  occasions 
he  expresses  his  mind  plainly.  The  first  time 
I  caught  him,  he  had  stayed  out  too  long,  and 
as  it  was  growing  dark  he  could  not  get  home. 
I  quietly  walked  up  to  him  where  he  stood  on 
the  window,  and  before  he  suspected  my  in- 
tention closed  my  hands  over  him.  He  was  not 
frightened,  but  indignant,  and  at  once  turned 
his  bill  towards  me,  and  reproached  me  for  the 
liberty  in  a  few  emphatic  remarks  —  a  modifi- 
cation of  his  usual  liquid  "  Chook,  chook, 
chook,"  into  "  Chack,  chack,  chack." 

This  interesting  bird  has  never  given  me  a 


A   GENTLE  SPIRIT.  39 

note  of  his  wild  song  in  the  cage  (perhaps  be- 
cause it  is  winter)  but  he  sometimes  adds  his 
voice  to  the  chorus  in  the  room,  in  a  low 
whispered  twittering,  very  sweet,  but  very 
unsatisfactory.  The  most  unexpected  sound 
he  makes  is  a  sort  of  low  squeal  —  I  can  call 
it  nothing  else  —  over  something  he  very  much 
likes,  as  a  bit  of  apple  or  meat.  He  clatters 
his  bill,  as  other  thrushes,  when  startled  or 
annoyed.  He  was  very  intelligent  in  learning 
his  name,  and  is  the  only  bird  in  the  room  now 
who  will  come  when  called. 

There  is  a  curious  circumstance  about  the 
spots  on  his  breast.  They  seem  scattered  with- 
out any  attempt  at  regularity  all  over  the  lower 
parts  as  far  back  as  his  legs,  a  little  less  thickly 
perhaps  in  the  middle,  but  at  night,  when  he 
is  puffed  out  into  a  ball,  the  spots  form  three 
regular,  unbroken  lines  on  each  side,  meeting 
under  the  chin,  and  sweeping  away  to  right  and 
left  in  graceful  curves.  Looking  at  him  from 
the  front,  he  bears  no  little  resemblance  to  the 
prow  of  a  broad  ship,  with  three  well  defined 
brown  lines  down  each  side,  and  perfectly  white 
in  every  other  part. 

Among  the  many  unknown  habits  of  the 
thrush  is  one  in  which  I  feel  a  peculiar  interest. 
It  is  this :  what  mysteries  do  wild  thrushes  per- 
form at  early  morning,  with  the  first  streaks  of 


40  A    GENTLE  SPIRIT. 

light,  to  make  them  so  uneasy,  so  restless  at 
that  time  in  a  cage  ?  No  matter  how  amiable, 
how  happy,  how  tame  a  thrush  may  be,  in  that 
mystic  hour  he  is  a  contented  pet  no  longer ;  he 
is  a  wild,  unsatisfied  being,  full  of  longings  and 
emotions  he  cannot  express  —  at  least  to  you. 
In  that  moment  one  must  realize  that  he  cannot 
tame  the  soul ;  he  may  confine  the  body,  but  the 
wild,  free  spirit  looks  out  through  the  eyes  even 
of  a  wood  thrush. 


A  WINTER  BIRD-STUDY. 


"  And  still  when  winter  spreads  around 

The  chilly  covering  of  the  snow, 
And  woods  in  dreary  silence  bound, 
No  more  with  sounds  of  joy  o'erflow, 
Beside  my  hearth  I  sit  and  hear 
The  same  sweet  music  ringing  clear, 
And  summer-time  within  I  know. 

CALDWELL. 


IV. 

A  WINTER  BIRD-STUDY. 


WHEN  the  " autumnal  gale  moans  sadly" 
through  the  groves,  stripping  the  leafy  shelter 
from  their  homes  and  scattering  the  feathered 
folk  abroad,  the  lover  of  bird-life  must  look  in- 
doors, must  study  the  inhabitants  of  sunny 
rooms  where  summer  prevails  the  year  around, 
and  only  the  four  walls  confine. 

All  winter  under  these  favorable  conditions 
I  have  studied  a  song  thrush  or  throstle  of  Eng- 
land, and  although  in  some  respects  not  so  at- 
tractive in  disposition  as  the  American  wood 
thrush,  he  is  still  a  most  interesting  bird.  It 
is  well  known,  in  this  day,  that  among  birds  as 
among  people  character  differs  in  individuals; 
I  do  not  claim  to  have  studied  the  song  thrush, 
but  simply  one  song  thrush,  a  captive  in  my 
room. 

The  most  noticeable  characteristic  of  my  bird 
is  his  timidity.  He  is  afraid  of  the  dark,  or 
perhaps  I  should  say  of  the  half-dark.  When 


44  A    WINTER  BIRD-STUDY. 

evening  approaches,  even  —  in  winter  —  so 
early  as  four  o'clock,  he  begins  to  throw  un- 
easy glances  around  the  room,  and  peer  anx- 
iously into  the  shaded  corners  as  though  in 
search  of  some  terrible  bugaboo.  Should  it 
chance  to  be  cloudy  and  dark  even  at  noonday, 
he  will  display  great  nervousness,  starting  at 
the  slightest  sound,  and  stretching  his  neck  to 
look  in  every  obscure  place  with  an  air  so  mys- 
terious that  one  cannot  but  turn  to  see  if  there 
be  really  nothing  there.  Many  birds  show 
dread  of  the  shadowy  corners  of  a  room,  but 
none  that  I  have  seen  is  so  sensitive  as  the  song 
thrush.  For  this  reason,  at  four  p.  M.  his  door 
is  closed  for  the  night,  and  a  little  later,  as  the 
darkness  grows,  begins  a  curious  performance, 
apparently  an  attempt  to  try  all  possible  ways 
of  going  over  and  under  and  around  his  five 
perches.  He  will  first  descend  to  the  floor  by 
means  of  three  perches  like  a  flight  of  steps, 
run  madly  across  the  cage  and  spring  to  the 
upper  perch  from  the  outside,  where  there  is 
hardly  room  next  to  the  wires,  then  jump  ex- 
citedly back  and  forth  on  the  two  upper  perches, 
down  the  steps  again  and  up  the  other  side, 
sometimes  omitting  the  middle  perch  alto- 
gether, as  a  boy  likes  to  pass  over  every  alter- 
nate step  in  hastening  down  stairs,  and  this 
exercise  varied  in  every  imaginable  way  for  an 


A    WINTER  BIRD-STUDY.  45 

hour  at  a  time.  The  same  thing  occurs  in  the 
dim  light  of  early  morning,  with  so  much  vio- 
lence and  noise  that  I  am  obliged  to  remove  his 
cage  to  a  dark  room  where  daylight  comes  only 
when  the  door  is  opened. 

The  timidity  of  this  bird  is  shown  also  in  his 
manner  of  examining  a  strange  object.  If  on 
the  floor,  he  will  hop  around  it  at  a  respectful 
distance,  viewing  it  from  every  side.  For  a 
long  time  he  will  not  approach,  and  when  he 
does,  it  is  with  the  greatest  caution,  prepared 
for  instant  flight  if  it  develops  unexpected  hos- 
tility. I  once  threw  on  the  floor  a  small  ball  of 
yarn  with  the  end  unwound  about  four  inches 
and  fastened  in  that  position.  The  thrush  is 
exceedingly  fond  of  a  string,  and  this  one  was 
attractive.  He  hopped  around  it  with  interest, 
gradually  drew  nearer,  and  after  some  time  ven- 
tured to  take  hold  of  it.  He  was  evidently  not 
yet  satisfied  about  the  nature  of  the  ball,  and 
intended  to  drag  the  string  away  from  the  sus- 
picious neighborhood.  Accordingly  he  gave  ifc 
a  jerk,  when  to  his  horror  the  ball  bounded  to- 
wards him.  The  suddenness  with  which  he 
dropped  it  and  disappeared  in  the  furthest  cor- 
ner under  the  bed  was  laughable.  In  spite  of 
this  experience,  the  string  was  irresistible,  and 
in  a  few  moments  he  returned.  Again  and 
again  he  tried  to  secure  it,  and  again  and  again 


46  A    WINTER  BIRD-STUDY. 

he  was  panic-stricken  at  the  conduct  of  the  ball. 
Besides  this,  he  is  easily  intimidated  by  other 
birds.  The  cat-bird  was  his  terror.  He  would 
gaze  on  that  mischievous  fellow  in  some  of  his 
pranks,  standing  very  straight  up  on  his  long 
legs  with  crown  feathers  erect,  the  picture  of 
horror ;  while  his  two  small  feet,  side  by  side, 
opposed  to  the  bold  stride  of  the  cat-bird  made 
him  look  like  an  innocent  child  in  the  presence 
of  an  impish  elf.  After  the  cat-bird's  depart- 
ure (I  opened  the  window  for  him  in  the  spring, 
when  he  grew  restless  and  unhappy),  the  hermit 
thrush,  half  his  size,  could  drive  him  anywhere 
about  the  room,  and  a  red-wing  blackbird  is  a 
nightmare  to  him,  though  that  he  is  to  all  the 
birds. 

So  timid  is  this  thrush  that  he  was  with  great 
difficulty  induced  to  leave  his  cage  at  all.  He 
had  to  be  starved  to  it,  with  food  and  water 
outside,  and  no  bath  till  he  would  come  out  and 
take  it.  Two  weeks  passed  before  he  would  go 
in  and  out  freely,  and  even  now,  after  months 
of  freedom,  the  slightest  alarm  sends  him  like  a 
shot  into  his  cage,  where  he  instantly  mounts 
the  highest  perch,  and  manifests  intense  excite- 
ment for  some  time. 

The  real  bugaboo  of  my  thrush's  life,  for 
which  I  always  imagine  he  is  searching  the 
dusky  corners,  is  a  doll.  Strange  to  say,  this 


A    WINTER  BIRD-STUDY.  47 

joy  of  babyhood  is  an  absolute  terror  to  him,  as 
I  discovered  quite  by  accident.  While  engaged 
in  dressing  one  for  a  little  friend,  I  observed 
that  the  bird  was  uneasy,  and  did  not  come  near 
me  as  usual,  but  did  not  suspect  the  cause  till  he 
flew  up  to  my  desk,  as  was  his  constant  habit, 
to  receive  his  bit  of  bread  from  my  hands.  The 
doll  was  lying  there,  and  the  instant  he  saw  it 
(before  his  feet  had  touched  the  desk),  he  flew 
violently  away,  uttering  his  loudest  "  Chook  ! 
chook !  chook  ! "  and  took  refuge  in  his  cage, 
where  he  stood,  flirting  wings  and  tail  in  great 
excitement  for  ten  minutes  or  more.  I  could 
not  believe  the  doll  had  occasioned  the  panic, 
so  when  he  had  become  quiet,  I  lifted  it  up  and 
turned  it  towards  him,  ten  or  twelve  feet  away. 
He  at  once  began  jumping  back  and  forth  with 
the  same  agitation,  and  after  further  tests  I  was 
forced  to  conclude  that  he  did  not  admire  a  doll. 

Wishing  to  see  how  the  bird  would  receive 
an  animal,  I  placed  on  the  floor  a  candy  box, 
which  was  a  very  good  imitation  of  an  alliga- 
tor a  foot  long.  But  I  was  not  gratified  by  any 
display  of  interest  or  fear.  He  simply  gave  it 
the  widest  berth  which  the  room  would  admit, 
and  absolutely  refused  to  "  interview "  the 
young  monster. 

Timid  though  he  be,  the  thrush  is  inquisitive. 
He  examines  everything  with  close  attention, 


48  A    WINTER  BIRD-STUDY. 

and  the  waste-basket  is  a  source  of  as  much  in- 
terest to  him  as  it  was  to  the  cat-bird,  though 
he  does  not  regard  it  in  the  same  light.  To  the 
cat-bird  it  was  a  deep  well  containing  treasures 
he  longed  to  possess  ;  to  this  bird  it  is  a  cage 
between  whose  bars  he  can  pull  its  varied  con- 
tents. He  walks  around  it  on  the  floor,  inserts 
his  bill  and  drags  through  the  openings  what- 
ever he  is  able,  pulling  and  tugging  at  them 
with  all  his  might.  After  an  absence  of  an  hour 
or  two  from  the  room,  I  often  find  my  waste- 
basket  adorned  with  buttresses  of  paper,  cloth, 
and  other  materials  standing  out  on  every  side. 
Another  marked  characteristic  of  my  bird  is 
his  aversion  to  change.  He  is  preeminently  a 
creature  of  habit,  and  impatient  of  variations 
upon  the  established  order  of  things.  He  has 
an  exact  knowledge  of  the  arrangement  of  my 
room,  and  expresses  the  strongest  disapproval 
of  innovations.  If  I  assume  an  apron  or  a 
shawl,  he  will  not  come  near  me  ;  a  pillow  left 
at  the  foot  of  the  bed  disturbed  him  for  an 
hour  ;  the  corner  of  a  rug  turned  up  gives  him 
pain ;  a  stiff  leather  string  that  fell  with  end 
sticking  up  instead  of  lying  flat  in  the  manner 
of  strings  annoyed  him  beyond  expression ; 
and  he  absolutely  declined  to  change  his  lodg- 
ings, though  I  offered  him  a  larger  and  better 
cage.  Having  taught  him  to  come  out  of  and 


A    WINTER  BIRD-STUDY.  49 

go  into  his  cage  when  on  the  floor,  he  refused 
to  fly  up  to  it,  though  not  more  than  one  foot 
higher.  I  had  to  accustom  him  gradually,  in 
this  way :  the  first  day  or  two  I  placed  the 
cage  upon  one  book;  he  hesitated,  delayed, 
stayed  out  for  hours,  till  hunger  forced  him  to 
venture  the  little  hop  that  reached  the  perch 
running  out  from  his  door.  When  used  to  that 
height,  I  inserted  two  books,  and  he  repeated 
the  performance.  Thus  gradually,  and  in  the 
course  of  weeks,  I  induced  him  to  fly  as  high 
as  a  common  table  to  reach  his  door,  but  to  this 
day  he  will  starve  before  he  will  enter  his  cage 
when  standing  on  top  of  a  low  bookcase, 
though  he  will  fly  to  the  top  of  it,  or  to  the 
cornices  over  the  windows,  with  ease.  Also  he 
never  enters  his  door  except  from  the  right 
side  ;  however  it  is  placed,  or  wherever  he  may 
be  when  he  starts  for  home,  from  the  right 
alone  will  he  go  in.  When  in  haste,  he  can  fly 
across  the  room  and  into  his  door  unerringly  ; 
but  if  at  leisure,  he  describes  a  circle  around 
the  cage  or  the  table  it  is  on,  approaches  the 
door  on  the  proper  side,  flies  to  the  perch,  and 
runs  in. 

The  most  amusing  manifestation  of  my 
thrush's  disapproval  of  change  was  his  recep- 
tion of  a  picture  I  pinned  upon  the  wall.  It 
was  a  highly-colored  chromo  about  a  foot 

4 


50  A    WINTER  BIRD-STUDY. 

square.  He  went  to  it  at  once,  standing  on  the 
floor  and  observing  it  with  all  a  critic's  airs, 
throwing  back  his  head,  turning  it  one  side  and 
the  other,  hopping  back  and  forth  before  it, 
never  removing  his  eyes,  and  expressing  his 
opinion  in  the  liveliest  manner  by  a  high- 
pitched  insect-like  "  S-e-e-p,"  and  a  contemp- 
tuous flirt  of  the  tail.  For  days  these  actions 
were  repeated,  until  he  became  accustomed  to 
it,  and  accepted  it  as  a  feature  of  the  room. 

This  bird  is  remarkably  intelligent.  He 
learned  to  respond  to  his  name  more  quickly 
than  any  of  his  fellows.  He  is  wonderfully 
quick  to  suspect  my  intentions  regarding  worms 
or  meat.  The  sight  of  the  worm-cup  brings 
him  from  his  cage  instantly,  and  since  I  have 
been  feeding  him  raw  beef  instead,  I  cannot 
touch  the  scissors,  with  which  I  usually  cut  it 
into  bits,  without  bringing  him  upon  me  fero- 
ciously hungry  for  his  breakfast. 

Finding  that  the  thrush  persisted  in  scatter- 
ing his  food  when  in  open  dishes,  I  removed 
them,  and  substituted  some  of  a  different  style, 
from  which  he  could  not  waste  so  much.  He 
did  not  approve  the  change,  but  learned  after  a 
time  to  endure  it,  and  I  supposed  he  had  for- 
gotten all  about  it ;  but  when  I  brought  the  old 
cups  out  for  the  use  of  a  new  bird,  he  recog- 
nized them  at  once.  The  cage  was  on  the  floor, 


A    WINTER  BIRD-STUDY.  61 

and  he  hopped  around  it,  excited,  even  furious, 
ta  see  his  property  in  the  possession  of  another. 
He  put  his  bill  between  the  wires  —  though  the 
tenant  was  the  dreaded  blackbird  —  and  pulled 
and  pushed  and  jerked,  and  in  every  way 
tried  to  get  the  dishes  out ;  and  when  at  last 
the  enemy  left  the  cage  for  a  bath,  he  rushed 
in,  flew  to  these  cups,  and  scattered  seed  and 
water  far  and  wide.  He  was  in  a  terrible  rage. 

The  looking-glass  —  heart-breaking  to  many 
birds — does  not  trouble  the  thrush.  If  he 
chances  to  alight  where  he  catches  sight  of  his 
own  reflection,  he  utters  a  quiet  "  chook "  or 
two,  and  stands  a  few  minutes  looking  earnestly 
at  the  room  "  through  the  looking-glass,"  mani- 
festing surprise,  but  no  particular  pain. 

Introducing  a  new  bird  to  the  room  is  almost 
certain  to  arouse  jealousy  in  the  older  residents. 
The  thrush  suffers  from  this  feeling,  though  he 
never  mopes  or  grieves  over  it,  as  do  many 
birds ;  he  is  angry.  If  I  feed  the  blackbird 
from  the  same  hand  that  feeds  him,  he  will 
give  the  offending  member  a  violent  peck,  by 
way  of  reproof ;  when  I  offer  hemp-seed  to  a 
seed-eater,  the  thrush  instantly  appears  on  the 
scene  and  greedily  devours  every  seed  he  can 
secure,  though  he  never  touched  them  before, 
and  swallows  them  now  without  shelling ;  and 
when  he  shows  rage  at  my  giving  the  black- 


52  A    WINTEA  BIRD-STUDY. 

bird  seed  one  at  a  time  from  my  fingers,  I  offer 
him  the  cup  to  shame  his  greediness,  but,  noth- 
ing daunted,  he  attempts  to  choke  down  every 
one,  till  I  take  it  away  lest  he  hurt  himself. 
Jealousy  had,  however,  one  unusual  and  pleas- 
ing effect  on  my  bird ;  it  made  him  suddenly 
tame.  For  the  first  time  he  alighted  on  my 
knee  as  I  sat  down  with  his  meat  in  my  hand. 
Finding  himself  comfortable,  and  not  disturbed 
or  annoyed  by  my  presuming  upon  his  confi- 
dence, he  stayed  a  long  time ;  next  he  perched 
on  my  shoulder,  then  my  head,  and,  in  fact,  be- 
fore six  days  were  over  he  was  almost  trouble- 
some in  his  familiarity.  He  would  stand  mo- 
tionless an  hour  at  a  time  on  my  knee  or  arm, 
watching  the  movements  of  my  pen,  taking  an 
occasional  lunch  of  breads  from  my  fingers  or 
lips,  and  apparently  not  in  the  least  alarmed. 

But  familiarities  must  be  all  on  the  thrush's 
side.  Should  I  attempt  to  bring  my  hand  near 
him,  except  with  an  offering,  or  to  touch  even 
one  toe,  he  will  either  fly  away  or  show  fight. 
He  rapidly  advanced  from  this  attitude  towards 
me  to  friendly  relations  with  all  the  family, 
even  a  youth  who  likes  to  tease  him,  and  to 
whom  he  always  presents  an  open  bill.  When 
I  lie  down  he  stands  like  a  guardian  spirit  on 
my  arm  or  shoulder,  or  on  the  head-board  of 
the  bed,  with  the  untiring  patience  of  his  race  ; 


A    WINTER  BIRD-STUDY.  53 

and  when  I  write,  be  is  half  the  time  perched 
on  the  top  of  my  writing  tablet,  sometimes  so 
closely  that  I  have  to  pull  from  under  his  feet 
each  sheet  as  I  use  it.  When  I  hold  his  meat, 
he  snatches  at  the  piece,  tries  to  draw  it  away 
from  me,  and  seizes  every  bit  from  the  scissors 
as  I  cut  it. 

This  thrush,  being  a  ground  bird,  is  fond  of 
the  floor.  His  favorite  place  is  under  the  rock- 
ing-chair in  which  I  sit,  where  he  spends  the 
greater  part  of  the  time  between  his  frequent 
meals.  At  first  I  dared  not  move  for  fear  of 
hurting  him,  but  finding  that  he  was  never  off 
his  guard,  I  have  gradually  become  perfectly  in- 
different as  to  his  whereabouts,  and  rock  and 
move  as  I  choose.  Under  the  bed  is  another 
chosen  retreat. 

The  number  and  variety  of  attitudes  a  bird 
will  assume  are  extremely  interesting  to  ob- 
serve. Every  emotion  is  plainly  expressed,  not 
by  the  face  as  in  the  human  family,  but  by  the 
whole  body.  Feeling  mere  curiosity  and  inter- 
est in  anything,  he  stands  up  perfectly  erect 
with  tail  nearly  touching  the  ground,  a  most 
beautiful  attitude  for  a  thrush.  In  surprise  the 
feathers  on  top  of  his  head  gradually  rise,  and 
with  the  light  circle  defining  his  eye  he  looks 
as  though  transfixed  with  horror.  I  have 
spoken  of  the  expression  of  legs  ;  it  is  aston- 


54  A    WINTER  BIRD-STUDY. 

ishing,  when  one  really  notices  them,  to  see 
how  much  is  expressed  by  different  positions 
of  those  members.  The  thrush,  standing  with 
feet  side  by  side,  looks  the  picture  of  innocence ; 
the  cat-bird,  with  his  wide  apart,  one  a  little  in 
advance  of  the  other,  is  the  personification  of 
mischief ;  the  blackbird,  with  one  foot  on  a 
perch,  and  the  other  grasping  the  side  of  the 
cage  six  inches  above,  resembles  terror  almost 
amounting  to  panic,  prepared  to  flee  whichever 
way  seems  least  dangerous. 

Like  many  birds,  the  thrush  expresses  anger 
by  lowering  his  head,  making  his  body  a  hori- 
zontal object  exactly  the  shape  of  an  egg,  with 
bill  at  one  end  and  tail  at  the  other ;  war  is  de- 
clared by  a  crouching  position,  in  which  he 
looks  ready  to  spring. 

The  thrush's  sun-bath  is  the  drollest  I  have 
seen.  Not  only  does  he  raise  every  feather  on 
end  and  puff  himself  out  three  times  his  nat- 
ural size,  and  round  as  a  ball,  but  he  leans  over 
on  one  side  to  present  the  lower  parts  to  the 
sunlight,  slightly  raises  the  wing  on  the  upper 
side,  droops  his  head,  opens  his  mouth,  and 
often  closes  his  eyes.  This  looks  like  the  last 
agony,  but  is  supreme  delight.  Often  during 
summer  he  may  be  seen  on  the  floor  in  some 
spot  where  the  sun  falls,  in  this  ludicrous  posi- 
tion ;  but  in  winter  he  indulges  in  no  such  va- 


A    WINTER  BIRD-STUDY.  55 

garies ;  however  warm  the  room,  and  however 
brightly  the  sun  may  shine,  he  keeps  his  plum- 
age well  down  on  his  body. 

Excitement  and  indignation  are  well  and 
completely  expressed  by  this  bird,  with  wings 
and  tail ;  the  former  emotion  by  short,  sharp, 
upward  jerks  of  the  tail ;  the  latter  by  equally 
energetic  movements  of  both  wings  and  tail. 
By  jerk  of  the  wings  I  mean  lifting  them 
slightly  and  bringing  them  down  suddenly. 
His  meaning  is  as  plain  as  though  he  spoke. 

The  gait  of  the  thrush  is  usually  a  hop  ; 
long  hops  from  two  to  three  feet  in  extent  when 
in  haste,  and  short  ones  on  ordinary  occasions. 
If  feeling  particularly  well  he  will  give  an  ex- 
aggerated little  hop  when  wishing  to  move  one 
inch  forward,  which  is  very  pretty  and  grace- 
ful to  see.  When  he  carries  a  burden  he  walks 
or  runs,  holding  his  head  well  forward.  If  he 
succeeds  in  abstracting  a  thread  from  my  waste- 
basket,  he  runs  off  with  it  in  a  most  comical 
way. 

The  sounds  my  bird  gives  utterance  to  have 
no  great  variety ;  the  above  mentioned  "  s-e-e-p," 
like  an  insect  noise,  with  closed  bill,  when 
greatly  pleased,  as  during  the  bath  ;  also  when 
troubled,  as  by  a  piece  of  food  too  large  to 
swallow ;  a  louder,  rich-toned  u  Chook !  chook  ! 
chook  !  "  when  much  excited  and  impatient ; 


56  A    WINTER  BIRD-STUDY. 

and  a  sharp  snap  of  the  bill  when  on  the  war- 
path, which,  repeated  rapidly,  resembles  the 
rattle  of  castanets.  His  song  is  sweet,  but  very 
low,  never  uttered  except  when  others  are  sing- 
ing, and  then  so  softly  it  can  scarcely  be  heard. 
There  is  as  great  difference  between  singers  in 
the  feathered  race  as  in  our  own ;  not  all  of  us 
can  be  Campaninis. 

In  eating,  this  thrush  is  almost  omnivorous. 
His  usual  fare  —  mocking-bird  food  —  he  con- 
stantly varies  with  bread,  of  which  he  is  ex- 
tremely fond,  and  which  I  ain  obliged  to  .furnish 
of  the  exact  quality  he  likes  ;  he  will  not  touch 
biscuit  or  cracker ;  the  bread  must  be  fresh  and 
soft,  in  pieces  not  too  small.  If  he  does  not  ap- 
prove of  the  morsel  offered,  he  takes  it,  and  im- 
mediately lets  it  fall.  A  large  piece  he  breaks 
up  by  literally  "  wiping  the  floor  "  with  it,  hold- 
ing it  in  his  bill  and  rubbing  first  one  side  and 
then  the  other  on  the  matting,  till  it  crumbles 
and  he  can  swallow  it.  In  the  same  way  he 
treats  worms,  fruit,  and  everything  he  chooses 
to  eat.  His  taste  is  catholic  in  the  extreme  ; 
not  only  does  he  like  the  above  viands,  but 
strings,  threads,  and  little  rolls  of  dust  brought 
out  from  under  furniture.  He  likes  all  fruits, 
especially  grapes.  After  having  supplied  the 
place  of  meal-worms  with  bits  of  fresh  beef  a 
few  times,  he  adopted  the  new  food  eagerly,  re- 


A    WINTER  BIRD-STUDY.  57 

fused  the  worms,  and  was  wild  for  the  meat, 
which  he  will  eat  ravenously,  till  his  crop  stands 
out,  and  he  really  cannot  swallow  another  mor- 
sel. 

This  bird's  passion  for  strings  is  troublesome, 
since  they  always  mat  into  a  lump  and  must  be 
thrown  up  ;  but  worst  of  all  is  a  fatal  propen- 
sity for  eating  the  hairs  which,  in  spite  of  utmost 
care,  he  will  now  and  then  pick  up  on  the  floor. 
The  first  trouble  is  to  get  them  down.  He  will 
swallow  one  end,  and  then  be  nearly  mad  with 
annoyance  from  the  piece  left  hanging,  shak- 
ing his  head,  rubbing  his  bill,  and  becoming 
greatly  excited,  but  the  notion  of  giving  up  the 
object  never  occurs  to  him.  If  it  hangs  down 
several  inches  I  can  often  secure  the  end  in 
my  fingers,  when  a  struggle  at  once  ensues,  he 
holding  on  to  his  end,  and  I  to  mine,  till  I  win, 
which  I  alwa}Ts  do,  of  course.  On  one  occasion 
he  swallowed  the  two  ends  of  a  hair,  leaving  a 
loop  around  his  lower  bill.  It  seemed  as  if  he 
would  be  crazy,  but  I  could  not  help  him  with- 
out catching  him,  which  I  never  do  unless  im- 
portant, for  I  don't  wish  my  birds  to  associate 
any  unpleasant  experience  with  me.  After  he 
has  collected  in  his  internal  reservoir  as  many 
threads,  strings,  hairs  and  so  forth  as  he  can 
hold,  there  comes  a  time  when  he  mopes  on  his 
perch,  sometimes  for  a  day,  unable  to  eat,  hun- 


68  A    WINTER  BIRD-STUDY. 

gry  yet  full,  fighting  the  inclination  to  disgorge, 
which,  however,  at  last  overpowers  him,  the 
lump  as  big  as  the  end  of  one's  little  finger 
comes  up,  and  he  falls  to  his  food  with  eager- 
ness. 

The  thrush  always  has  a  serious  time  when 
he  finds  a  string  hanging,  which  he  can  reach 
yet  not  draw  out.  The  tugs  and  jerks,  the 
bracing  of  his  firm  little  legs,  and  pulls  that 
take  him  off  his  feet,  are  amusing  to  see,  while 
his  persistence  is  amazing.  He  will  work  a 
whole  day  on  a  large  piece  of  twine  which  hangs 
within  his  reach,  trying  to  pull  it  down,  or  to 
untwist  the  end  so  that  he  can  eat  it.  Fringe 
of  all  sorts  is  too  attractive  to  resist.  He  made 
a  funny  figure  of  himself  one  day  when  a  towel 
was  left  hanging  on  the  back  of  a  chair.  The 
fringe  was  a  foot  from  the  floor,  and  the  bird 
would  spring  up  to  it,  seize  several  threads  in 
his  bill,  and  attempt  to  carry  them  off.  They 
would  not  come,  and  there  he  would  hang,  beat- 
ing the  air  with  both  wings,  and  wildly  grasp- 
ing at  nothing  with  both  feet,  swinging  back 
and  forth  as  he  did  so.  In  a  moment  he  would 
drop  to  the  floor  exhausted,  but  very  soon  re- 
turn to  the  charge,  seizing,  and  swinging,  and 
clawing  as  before.  It  was  a  laughable  sight. 

Now,  as  I  write,  the  thrush  stands  on  the 
desk  before  me  looking  with  deepest  interest  at 


A    WINTER  BIRD-STUDY.  59 

my  movements.  His  body  is  erect,  his  wings 
slightly  drooped,  and  as  he  stands  there  motion- 
less, with  dark,  earnest  eyes  fixed  upon  me,  I 
cannot  doubt  his  intelligence,  nor  that  he  has 
his  own  well-defined  opinions  about  me.  He 
seems  at  this  moment  to  be  gravely  pondering 
the  mysterious  differences  between  us  two,  so 
friendly  yet  so  far  apart,  so  loving  yet  so  un- 
like. 


IN  THE  CAT-BIRD'S  NOOK. 


"  Alas,  dear  friend,  that,  all  my  days, 

Has  poured  from  that  syringa  thicket 
The  quaintly  discontinuous  lays 
To  which  I  hold  a  season-ticket,  — 

"  A  season-ticket  cheaply  bought 

With  a  dessert  of  pilfered  berries,  — 
And  who  so  oft  my  soul  has  caught 
With  morn  and  evening  voluntaries." 

LOWELL. 


V. 

IN  THE  CAT-BIRD'S  NOOK. 


IN  a  secluded  nook  in  a  certain  park  many 
hours  of  last  summer  were  passed  in  the  ab- 
sorbing study  of  the  manners  of  the  cat-bird. 

So  well  hidden  was  that  delightful  spot,  so 
narrow  and  rough  the  gate,  and  so  attractive 
the  shaded  walk  leading  away  from  it,  that  it 
might  have  remained  a  secret  to  this  day,  un- 
known save  to  the  birds  and  the  squirrels ;  but 
a  friendly  cat-bird  in  a  moment  of  confidence 
led  me.  behind  the  veil  of  thick  shrubs  which 
screened  it  from  intrusive  visitors.  I  marked 
well  the  entrance,  and  day  after  day  returned, 
at  all  hours,  to  study  his  ways  in  his  chosen 
home.  Each  day's  knowledge  increased  my  re- 
spect and  liking,  no  less  than  my  surprise  and 
indignation  at  the  prejudice  against  him. 

The  morning  our  acquaintance  began  I  had 
been  watching  his  movements  as  he  flitted 
about,  now  running  madly  across  the  walk,  as 
though  a  legion  of  enemies  were  after  him,  now 


64  IN  THE  CAT-BIRD'S  NOOK. 

pausing  on  the  edge  to  see  what  I  would  do 
next,  then  retiring  to  a  short  distance  under 
the  trees,  and  having  a  lively  frolic  with  last 
year's  leaves,  digging  into  them  with  great 
spirit,  and  throwing  them  far  over  his  head. 
Suddenly  he  rose  on  wing,  and  flew,  with  tail 
wide  spread,  across  the  walk  into  an  althea 
bush,  where  he  disappeared. 

I  was  about  to  pass  on,  when,  fancying  I 
heard  a  faint  twittering  in  the  shrub,  I  ap- 
proached quietly  till  near  enough  to  put  my 
hand  on  him,  before  I  saw  him.  There  he  sat 
on  a  branch  about  as  high  as  my  head,  looking 
at  me  very  sharply  with  his  intelligent  black 
eyes,  but  not  in  the  least  agitated.  I  stood 
still,  and  he  went  on  with  his  song.  It  was  a 
most  extraordinary  performance.  The  sweet- 
est solo  given  with  every  trill  and  turn  the  bird 
can  execute,  with  swelling  throat  and  jerking 
tail,  yet  not  a  note  louder  than  a  whisper !  I 
had  to  listen  to  catch  the  sound,  although  I 
could  touch  him  where  I  stood.  It  was  a  genu- 
ine soliloquy.  When  he  had  finished  he  flew 
out  the  other  side  of  the  bush,  and  pushing  my 
way  between  the  althea  and  a  close-growing 
wigelia,  I  found  myself  in  his  nook,  a  charm- 
ing sunny  spot,  running  down  to  the  lake. 

Though  burdened  with  an  undeserved  and 
offensive  name,  and  having  somehow  become 


IN  THE  CAT-BIRD'S  NOOK. 


65 


an  object  of  suspicion  and  dislike  to  many  per- 
sons, the  cat-bird  —  Mimus  carolinensis  — is  one 
of  the  most  intelligent  and  interesting  of  our 
native  birds.  No  bird  makes  closer  observa- 
tion, or  more  correctly  estimates  one's  attitude 
toward  him.  As  I  sit  motionless  in  his  nook 
he  will  circle  around  me,  hopping  from  bush  to 
bush,  at  a  distance  of  ten  or  twelve  feet,  look- 
ing at  me  from  every  side,  and  at  last  slip  be- 
hind a  low  shrub,  and  come  out  boldly  upon 
the  grass  with  an  unconcerned  air,  entirely  dif- 
ferent from  that  with  which  he  had  kept  me 
under  surveillance  for  the  last  ten  minutes. 

The  cat-bird  has  an  inquiring  mind ;  nothing 
escapes  his  eye,  and  everything  is  of  interest  to 
him.  Far  from  being  satisfied  to  accept  any- 
thing as  "  mysterious,"  he  wishes  and  intends 
to  know  the  why  and  the  wherefore  of  every- 
thing new  or  strange.  After  one  has  gained 
his  confidence,  to  induce  him  to  show  himself 
on  the  grass  it  is  only  necessary  to  place  there 
something  new  —  a  bit  of  paper,  a  small  fruit, 
or  anything  unusual.  From  behind  his  screen 
of  leaves  he  sees  it,  is  at  once  seized  with  in- 
tense curiosity,  and  if  not  afraid  he  will  almost 
instantly  come  down  to  inspect  it.  This  he 
does  by  trying  to  stab  it  with  his  sharp  black 
bill,  jumping  off  the  ground  and  pouncing  on 
it,  when  it  happens  to  be  hard,  till  one  fears  he 


66  IN  THE   CAT-BIRD'S  NOOK. 

will  break  his  bill.  A  bit  of  apple  treated  by 
him  is  full  of  minute  stabs  or  gashes  like  dag- 
ger thrusts.  His  manner,  however,  is  not  one 
of  vulgar  curiosity,  but  always  of  philosophical 
inquiry  into  the  nature  of  substances,  and  his 
look  is  as  grave  and  thoughtful  as  though  he 
were  studying  some  of  the  problems  of  human 
or  bird  life. 

He  has  also  a  sense  of  humor.  I  had  the  for- 
tune to  see  from  my  own  window  in  the  city  an 
amusing  exhibition  of  this  quality.  Hearing 
the  sweet  song  of  a  cat-bird,  I  seized  an  opera- 
glass  and  looked  over  the  neighboring  yards  till 
I  found  him  perched  on  the  roof  of  a  pigeon- 
house,  singing  with  great  energy.  Several 
pigeons  were  also  on  the  roof,  and  seemed 
interested  in  the  stranger  entertaining  them, 
stupidly  —  in  pigeon  fashion  —  walking  about 
and  looking  at  him,  turning  their  heads  from 
side  to  side  in  their  mincing  way.  Suddenly, 
in  the  middle  of  a  burst  of  song,  the  minstrel 
darted  like  a  flash  among  them  (evidently  for 
pure  fun,  for  he  did  not  touch  one  of  them)  and 
returned  instantly  to  his  song.  Wild  panic, 
however,  seized  the  pigeons,  and  although  he 
was  a  mere  atom  among  them,  they  flew  every 
way,  and  would  have  shrieked  with  terror  had 
they  been  able. 

Then   the   sparrows  began   to   observe    him. 


IN  THE   CAT-BIRD'S  NOOK.  67 

They  gathered  near,  in  a  cherry-tree  and  a  lilac 
bush,  chattering  and  scolding,  and  plainly  ques- 
tioning the  right  of  the  stranger  to  intrude 
upon  their  grounds.  After  a  while  one  of  them 
flew  rapidly  past  the  apparently  unconcerned 
cat-bird,  who  interpolated  one  scolding  note, 
without  pausing  in  his  song.  This  insult  not 
being  resented,  the  sparrow  grew  bolder,  re- 
turned, and  alighted  on  the  roof  near  him. 
Wishing  to  finish  his  song,  the  cat-bird  merely 
scolded  a  little,  and  put  himself  in  a  threaten- 
ing attitude,  when  the  sparrow  considered  it 
prudent  to  retire.  For  a  few  minutes  there 
was  great  chattering  in  the  cherry-tree,  and 
the  birds,  having  made  up  their  minds  that  he 
could  do  nothing  but  scold,  plainly  resolved  to 
mob  him  in  true  sparrow  fashion.  One  led  the 
way  by  flying  down  to  the  roof  about  two  feet 
from  the  cat-bird,  all  bristled  up  ready  for  fight. 
This  was  too  much ;  the  song  ceased,  and  with 
a  fearful  war-cry  the  singer  fairly  flung  himself 
after  that  sparrow,  who  disappeared  in  a  panic, 
and  the  whole  party  of  mobbers  with  him. 
They  very  evidently  appreciated  their  mistake, 
and  saw  that  the  stranger  was  willing  as  well 
as  able  to  take  care  of  himself,  for  neither  spar- 
row nor  pigeon  came  near  him  again,  and  when 
he  returned  to  his  perch,  light  as  a  feather  and 
unruffled  as  a  summer  morning,  he  finished  his 


68  IN  THE   CAT-BIRD'S  NOOK. 

song  at  his  leisure,  and  had  the  roof  to  himself 
as  long  as  he  chose  to  stay. 

No  bird  is  more  graceful  than  the  cat-bird, 
and  in  spite  of  his  sober  dress  of  slate-color  and 
black,  none  is  more  beautiful.  His  plumage 
may  be  grave  of  hue,  but  it  is  like  satin  in 
sheen  and  texture,  and  always  in  the  most  per- 
fect order,  for  he  takes  the  daintiest  care  of 
himself.  To  see  him  make  his  toilet  for  the 
night  is  well  worth  staying  late  and  eating  a 
cold  dinner.  For  an  hour  without  ceasing  will 
he  plume  himself,  carefully  dressing  each  feather 
many  times  over,  combing  his  head  with  his 
claws  again  and  again,  and  shaking  with  vio- 
lent effort  every  atom  of  the  day's  dust  from 
him.  Then  when  all  is  arranged  to  his  mind, 
and  every  feather  in  place,  he  fluffs  himself  out 
into  a  ball,  draws  one  slate-colored  foot  up  out 
of  sight  into  its  feather  pillow,  and  is  ready  to 
say  good-night  and  enjoy  his  repose. 

Another  sight,  for  which  one  must  lose  his 
breakfast  —  though  it  will  be  well  exchanged 
—  is  his  bath.  The  cat-bird  loves  water,  and 
he  plunges  in,  fluttering  and  spattering  in  a 
way  to  delight  the  soul  of  a  "hydromaniac," 
wings  and  tail  and  head  all  hard  at  work, 
sprinkling  everything  for  yards  around,  till 
when  he  steps  out  he  looks  like  an  animated 
rag-bag,  and  the  long,  careful  toilet  of  the  even- 
ing is  repeated. 


IN   THE  CAT-BIRD'S  NOOK.  69 

But  the  rarest  of  all  is  to  see  him  take  a  sun- 
bath,  and  one  is  fortunate  indeed  to  catch  sight 
of  him  and  not  disturb  him  in  his  luxurious  en- 
joyment. Each  particular  feather  stands  on 
end,  even  to  the  small  ones  of  his  crown,  till  he 
looks  twice  his  usual  size,  and  like  a  clumsy 
imitation  of  a  bird  made  of  feathers  stuck 
loosely  into  a  ball.  More  than  this,  he  leans 
far  over  on  one  side,  and  lifts  his  wing  so  that 
the  sunshine  may  penetrate  to  every  part,  while 
his  mouth  is  half  open  and  his  eyes  are  closed 
in  ecstasy.  He  is  a  strange-looking  object ;  one 
would  think  him  in  great  distress  rather  than 
enjoying  a  sunning. 

It  is  interesting  to  watch  the  various  atti- 
tudes this  bird  assumes.  He  even  seems  to 
change  shape.  Now  he  stretches  up  very  tall, 
with  neck  lengthened  and  tail  standing  at  an 
angle  of  forty-five  degrees ;  again  he  crouches 
in  a  heap,  and  swells  out  till  he  resembles  an 
exaggerated  wren ;  something  attracts  his  at- 
tention, and  he  leans  forward  with  head  and 
tail  on  a  level  with  his  body,  and  legs  closely 
curled  under  him,  till  he  looks  from  the  front 
like  a  snake;  a  thought  of  mischief  seizes  him, 
and  he  drops  his  tail  over  on  one  side,  lowers 
his  head,  spreads  far  apart  his  sturdy  legs,  and 
the  looker-on  may  be  sure  that  in  a  moment  he 
will  dart  off  to  frighten  away  another  bird,  or 
play  some  lively  prank. 


70  IN  THE   CAT-BIRD'S  NOOK. 

No  words  can  express  contempt  or  a  shrug  of 
the  shoulder  better  than  a  certain  upward,  side- 
ways jerk  of  the  tail  and  saucy  twitch  of  the 
body  which  he  will  give  to  signify  his  opinion 
of  the  song  of  some  other  bird ;  wide-awake 
interest  is  never  more  clearly  displayed  than  by 
the  jerks  of  body  and  rustling  switches  of  the 
tail  with  which  he  contemplates  a  strange  sight. 
He  is  alive  to  the  tips  of  his  toes,  every  move- 
ment is  so  alert,  so  unexpected ;  he  will  start  off 
as  if  intending  to  fly  a  mile,  and  bring  up  on 
the  next  twig,  a  foot  away ;  standing  quietly  on 
a  branch  as  though  settled  for  life,  suddenly, 
like  a  flash,  he  will  slip  off  the  other  side,  and 
dive  after  a  berry  or  a  worm  his  sharp  eyes 
have  seen. 

I  had  a  great  desire  to  find  a  nest,  so  when  I 
saw  a  cat-bird  go  several  times  in  one  direction, 
worm  in  mouth,  I  watched  closely.  The  bird 
hopped  all  around  the  bush,  eying  me  sharply, 
and  at  last  jumped  upon  the  lowest  branch, 
gave  me  one  last  glance,  slipped  to  the  ground 
on  the  other  side,  and  returned  in  a  moment 
without  the  worm. 

"  Now,"  I  said,  exultingly  —  "  now  I  have 
you!" 

Carefully  I  crept  up  and  parted  the  branches, 
while  the  disturbed  bird  hopped  from  twig  to 
twig,  saying  "  Quit !  quit ! "  I  looked  in, 


IN   THE   CAT-BIRD'S  NOOK.  71 

confidently  expecting  to  see  the  low  nest  I 
knew  so  well.  '  No  nest  was  there.  Then  I 
searched  the  neighboring  shrubs,  and  even  the 
grass  around,  but  no  sign  of  his  home  could  I 
find,  while  the  bird,  who  had  watched  and  fol- 
lowed me,  plainly  chuckled  in  a  way  that  said, 
"  Humph  !  you  missed  it,  didn't  you  ?  "  and  I 
firmly  believe  that  the  saucy  fellow  ate  the 
worm  himself,  and  went  through  all  that  pre- 
tense of  mystery  to  mislead  me  and  rebuke  my 
prying  curiosity. 

The  singing  of  the  cat-bird  is  as  character- 
istic as  anything  else  about  him.  No  song  of 
his  ever  comes  from  the  top  of  a  tall  tree,  where 
the  robin  delights  to  pour  out  his  inspiring 
notes,  but  out  of  the  deepest  shade  of  tho  thick- 
est shrub  his  music  salutes  the  ear.  It  is  the 
most  charming  of  songs,  exquisite  in  quality, 
and  of  compass  and  variety.  His  common  chirp 
as  he  goes  about  in  the  bushes  is  soft  as  rain- 
drops plashing  into  a  quiet  lake,  and  his  low 
chatter  to  his  friends  has  the  same  liquid  char- 
acter. But  he  has  harsher  tones ;  he  has  a 
sharp  "  tut,  tut,"  like  the  robin,  and  he  has  the 
cry  from  which  he  is  named,  which  at  a  little 
distance  somewhat  resembles  the  "  mew  "  of  a 
melancholy  cat,  but  closer  sounds  more  like  the 
cry  of  a  young  baby.  Then,  also,  when  his  anger 
is  roused,  and  he  flies  furiously  almost  in  one's 


72  IN  THE   CAT-BIRD'S  NOOK. 

face,  he  gives  utterance  to  a  harsh,  grating 
sound  that  one  finds  it  hard  to  Believe  can  come 
out  of  his  mouth,  like  "  Crack-rack-rack."  In 
fact,  I  do  not  know  a  bird  possessing  a  greater 
variety  of  notes. 

When  a  cat-bird  stands  up  three  feet  from 
you,  not  in  the  least  flustered  or  disturbed, 
calmly  looking  you  full  in  the  face  with  both 
his  bright  black  eyes,  not  turning  his  head  from 
side  to  side  in  the  way  common  to  birds,  you 
recognize  in  him  something  like  intelligence 
and  reason,  and  you  cannot  resist  the  convic- 
tion that  he  has  his  opinions,  and  could  express 
them  if  only  you  could  understand  his  lan- 
guage. 


THE  « TRICKS  AND  MANNERS  "  OF 
A   CAT-BIRD. 


"  The  birds  around  me  hopped  and  played : 
Their  thoughts  I  cannot  measure  ;  — 
But  the  least  motion  which  they  made, 
It  seemed  a  thrill  of  pleasure/' 

WORDSWORTH. 


VI. 

THE    «  TRICKS  AND   MANNERS  "    OF  A   CAT- 
BIRD. 


FOR  more  than  eight  months  a  cat-bird  has 
lived  in  my  house,  passing  his  days  in  freedom 
in  the  room  where  I  sit  at  work,  and  his  nights 
in  a  cage  not  six  feet  from  my  head. 

Having  spent  a  summer  in  watching  his  ways 
in  his  home,  and  acquiring  a  proper  respect  for 
his  intelligence,  I  now  wished  to  test  him  under 
new  conditions,  to  see  how  he  would  adapt  him- 
self to  our  home,  and  I  found  the  study  one  of 
the  most  absorbing  interest. 

He  had  been  caged  a  few  weeks  only,  but  he 
was  not  at  all  wild,  and  he  soon  grew  so  accus- 
tomed to  my  silent  presence  that,  unless  I 
spoke,  or  looked  at  him,  he  paid  no  attention  to 
me.  By  means  of  a  small  mirror  and  an  opera- 
glass  I  was  able  to  watch  him  closely  in  any 
part  of  the  room,  when  he  thought  himself  un- 
observed. 

To  the  loving  student  of  bird  ways  his  feath- 


76      "TRICKS  AND  MANNERS"    OF  A   CAT-BIRD. 

ered  friends  differ  in  disposition  as  do  his  hu- 
man ones.  My  cat-bird  is  a  decided  character, 
with  more  intelligence  than  any  other  bird  I 
have  observed.  The  first  trait  I  noticed,  and 
perhaps  the  strongest,  was  curiosity.  It  was  ex- 
tremely interesting  to  see  him  make  acquaint- 
ance with  my  room,  the  first  he  had  ever  been 
free  to  investigate. 

Usually,  with  birds  long  caged,  it  is  at  first 
hard  to  induce  them  to  come  out.  I  have  been 
obliged  actually  to  starve  them  to  it,  placing 
food  and  water  outside,  and  repeating  it  for 
many  days,  before  they  would  come  out  freely, 
and  not  be  frightened.  Not  so  with  the  cat- 
bird. The  moment  he  found  that  a  certain 
perch  I  had  just  put  into  his  cage  led  into  the 
room  through  the  open  door,  he  ran  out  upon 
it,  and  stood  at  the  end,  surveying  his  new 
territory. 

Up  and  down,  and  on  every  side,  he  looked, 
excited,  as  the  quick  jerks  of  his  expressive  tail 
said  plainly,  but  not  in  the  least  alarmed.  Then 
he  took  wing,  flew  around  and  around  several 
times,  and  at  last,  as  all  birds  do,  came  full 
speed  against  the  window,  and  fell  to  the  floor. 
There  he  stood,  panting.  I  spoke  to  him,  but 
did  not  startle  him  by  a  movement,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  he  recovered  his  breath,  and  flew 
again,  several  times,  around  the  room. 


"TRICKS  AND   MANNERS"    OF  A   CAT-BIRD.      77 

As  soon  as  he  became  accustomed  to  using 
his  wings,  and  learned,  as  he  did  at  about  the 
second  attempt,  that  there  was  a  solid  reason 
why  he  could  not  fly  to  the  trees  he  could  see 
so  plainly  outside  the  window,  he  proceeded  to 
study  the  peculiarities  of  the  new  world  he 
found  himself  in.  He  ran  and  hopped  all  over 
the  floor,  into  every  corner ;  tried  in  vain  to  dig 
into  it,  and  to  pick  up  the  small  stripes  on  it. 
(The  floor  was  covered  with  matting.)  That 
being  thoroughly  explored,  —  the  lines  of  junc- 
tion of  the  breadths  and  the  heads  of  the  tacks, 
the  dark  mysteries  of  far  under  the  bed  and  the 
queer  retreat  behind  the  desk,  —  he  turned  his 
attention  to  the  ceiling.  Around  and  around 
he  flew  slowly,  hovering  just  under  it,  and 
touching  it  every  moment  with  his  bill,  till  that 
was  fully  understood  to  be  far  other  than  the 
blue  sky,  and  not  penetrable.  Once  having 
made  up  his  mind  about  anything,  it  was  never 
noticed  again. 

The  windows  next  came  under  observation, 
and  these  proved  to  be  a  long  problem.  He 
would  walk  back  and  forth  on  the  top  of  the 
lower  sash,  touching  the  glass  constantly  with 
his  bill,  or  stand  and  gaze  at  the  pigeons  and 
sparrows  and  other  objects  outside  ;  taking  the 
liveliest  interest  in  their  doings,  and  now  and 
then  gently  tapping,  as  if  he  could  not  under- 


78      "TRICKS  AND  MANNERS"    OF  A    CAT-BIRD. 

stand  why  it  was  impossible  to  join  them.  If 
it  had  not  been  winter,  his  evident  longing 
would  have  opened  windows  for  him ;  a  pining 
captive  being  too  painful  to  afford  any  pleasure. 

But  he  soon  became  entirely  contented,  and, 
having  satisfied  himself  of  the  nature  of  glass, 
seldom  looked  out,  unless  something  of  unusual 
interest  attracted  his  attention  ;  a  noisy  dispute 
in  the  sparrow  family,  trouble  among  the  chil- 
dren of  the  next  yard,  or  a  snow-storm,  which 
latter  astonished  and  disturbed  him  greatly,  at 
first. 

The  furniture  then  underwent  examination. 
Every  chair  round,  every  shelf,  every  table  and 
book,  every  part  of  the  bed,  except  the  white 
spread,  of  which  he  always  stood  in  awe,  was 
closely  studied,  and  its  practicability  for  perch- 
ing purposes  decided  upon.  My  desk  is  an  ever 
fresh  source  of  interest,  since  its  contents  and 
arrangements  vary.  The  top  of  a  row  of  books 
across  the  back  is  his  regular  promenade,  and 
is  carpeted  for  his  use  with  a  long  strip  of 
paper.  There  he  comes  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning,  and  peers  over  the  desk  to  see  if  I 
have  anything  for  him,  or  if  any  new  object 
has  arrived.  Here  he  gets  his  bit  of  apple  or 
raisin  ;  here  meal-worms  are  sometimes  to  be 
had ;  and  here  he  can  stand  on  one  foot  and 
watch  the  movements  of  my  pen,  which  he  does 


"TRICKS  AND  MANNERS"    OF  A   CAT-BIRD.     79 

with  great  interest.  Occasionally  he  finds  an 
open  drawer,  into  which  he  delights  to  go  and 
continue  his  explorations  among  postage-stamps 
and  bits  of  rubber,  pencils  and  other  small 
things,  which  he  throws  out  on  the  floor,  with 
always  the  possibility  of  discovering  what  is 
still  an  enigma  to  him,  a  rubber  band,  to  carry 
off  for  his  own  use,  as  I  will  explain  further  on. 

The  walls  and  the  furniture  understood,  he 
proceeded  with  his  studies  to  the  objects  on 
the  table.  A  mechanical  toy  interested  him 
greatly.  It  moved  easily,  and  the  wind  of  his 
wings,  alighting  near  it  the  first  time,  joggled 
it  a  little.  He  turned  instantly,  amazed  to  see 
signs  of  life  where  he  did  not  expect  them.  For 
a  moment  he  stood  crouched,  ready  for  flight  if 
the  thing  should  make  hostile  demonstrations. 
Seeing  it  remain  still,  he  touched  it  gently  with 
his  bill.  The  toy  moved,  and  he  sprang  back. 
In  a  moment  it  was  still,  and  he  tried  again  ; 
and  he  did  not  leave  it  till  he  had  fully  ex- 
hausted its  possibilities  in  the  way  of  motion. 

It  is  amusing  to  see  how  he  is  startled  when 
anything  moves.  First  he  is  in  a  panic,  and 
then  he  coolly  studies  it  out.  On  a  table  in 
the  room  stood  a  "  Tweed  Savings  Bank  "  be- 
longing to  one  of  the  children.  This  is  the  fig- 
ure of  a  large,  sleek-looking  man  seated  in  an 
arm-chair,  and  holding  out  one  hand,  which 


80      "TRICKS  AND  MANNERS"    OF  A   CAT-BIRD. 

bends  when  a  penny  is  placed  in  it,  and  drops 
the  coin  into  the  vest  pocket,  the  head  making 
a  bow  of  thanks.  The  cat-bird  had  great  ex- 
citement over  this  object.  He  approached  it 
in  his  wary  manner,  ready  to  fly  instantly  if  it 
moved.  Apparently  he  did  not  admire  the 
stretched-out  hand,  and  after  studying  it  a  mo- 
ment he  gave  it  a  savage  peck.  It  yielded, 
and  he  flew  away.  But  he  was  not  satisfied, 
and  in  a  few  moments  returned.  This  time  he 
tried  the  open  pocket,  probing  it  with  his  bill, 
and  becoming  at  last  so  excited  that  he  deliv- 
ered a  furious  blow  on  the  hand,  which  the 
figure  politely  acknowledged  with  a  bow.  The 
bird  disappeared  instantly,  and  gave  the  strange 
moving  thing  a  full  half  hour's  study  from  the 
cornice  before  he  returned  to  the  table.  When 
he  finally  left  it,  however,  he  was  perfectly  sat- 
isfied that  it  was  not  alive,  for  he  never  touched 
or  looked  at  it  again. 

At  another  time  he  saw  his  bath-tub,  a  tin 
dish,  standing  upon  a  pitcher.  He  alighted  on 
the  edge.  It  was  so  poised  that  it  shook  and 
rattled.  The  bird  flew  in  a  panic  to  the  top  of 
a  cornice,  his  usual  place  of  refuge,  and  closely 
watched  the  pan  while  it  jarred  back  and  forth 
several  times.  Apparently  seeing  that  it  was  a 
harmless  motion,  he  again  flew  down  to  the 
same  spot ;  and  the  rattle  and  shake  did  not 


"TRICKS  AND   MANNERS"    OF  A   CAT-BIRD.     81 

» 

drive  him  away  till  he  had  seen  if  there  was 
still  a  drop  of  water  left  for  him  in  the  bottom 
of  the  dish. 

One  day,  in  his  travels  about  the  floor,  he 
found  a  marble.  It  was  too  large  to  take  up  in 
his  mouth,  so  he  tried  to  stab  it,  as  he  does  a 
grape.  The  first  peck  he  gave  sent  it  rolling 
off,  and  he  hastily  retreated  to  the  cornice. 
When  it  stopped  he  returned  and  tried  it  again. 
This  time  it  sprang  toward  him.  He  gave  one 
great  leap,  and  then,  ashamed  of  his  fright, 
stood  and  waited  for  it  to  be  still.  Again  and 
again  he  tried  to  pierce  the  marble,  till  he  was 
satisfied  that  it  was  not  practicable,  when  he 
abandoned  it  forever. 

The  pins  on  my  cushion  are  always  objects 
of  deepest  interest  to  the  cat-bird.  He  first  tries 
to  pull  them  out,  and  then  to  push  them  in. 
A  large,  black-headed  shawl  pin  nearly  drives 
him  wild.  He  seizes  it  in  his  bill,  but  finds  it  a 
little  too  big  and  too  slippery  to  carry  off  as  he 
does  the  shoe-buttons  it  so  greatly  resembles. 
Then  he  tries  to  force  it  in  ;  he  pounces  upon 
it,  but  his  bill  slips  off  ;  he  gets  so  frantic  that 
he  fairly  jumps  off  his  feet  to  give  greater  force 
to  the  blow  ;  still  it  does  not  move.  After  some 
time  he  departs  in  disgust,  but  he  is  not  satis- 
fied, for  every  time  he  visits  the  bureau,  where 
he  is  fond  of  going,  he  has  another  struggle 
with  that  pin. 


82     "TRICKS  AND  MANNERS"    OF  A   CAT-BIRD. 

There  is  one  mystery  in  the  room  not  yet 
penetrated,  though  it  is  a  subject  of  the  deepest 
longing :  it  is  my  waste-basket,  the  contents  of 
which  are  varied  and  attractive.  He  will  stand 
on  the  edge,  hop  all  around,  and  view  it  from 
every  side  ;  but  it  is  so  deep  and  narrow  that 
he  evidently  does  not  dare  to  venture  farther. 
Every  day  he  goes  to  the  edge,  and  gazes  sadly 
and  earnestly,  but  is  never  satisfied. 

One  of  the  most  amusing  of  the  cat-bird's 
performances  was  with  a  praying  mantis,  which 
lived  for  a  few  days  under  a  small  glass  shade 
on  my  desk.  The  moment  the  bird  caught  sight 
of  the  stranger  —  about  five  minutes  after  its 
arrival  —  he  was  greatly  interested,  and  in- 
stantly flew  down  to  investigate.  He  alighted 
close  to  the  glass,  and  at  once  gave  it  a  tap, 
probably  expecting  to  seize  the  insect.  He  was 
somewhat  surprised  to  meet  with  resistance, 
but  the  effect  upon  the  mantis  was  extraordi- 
nary. That  strange  little  creature  had  from 
the  first  appeared  observing  :  it  would  turn  its 
head  to  look  at  a  person  who  drew  near,  and 
return  stare  for  stare,  but  it  had  never  shown 
fear.  But  the  cat-bird  was  different;  he  was 
recognized  as  an  enemy.  The  instant  he 
touched  the  glass  the  mantis  sprang  up  on  the 
defensive.  Her  plan  seemed  to  be  to  make 
herself  as  terrible  to  him  as  possible,  and  her 


"TRICKS  AND  MANNERS"    OF  A   CAT-BIRD.     83 

efforts  were  remarkable.  She  raised  her  body 
as  high  as  possible  on  four  of  her  legs,  while  the 
other  two,  the  fore-legs,  or  arms,  were  thrown 
out  wide,  as  though  to  embrace  him,  as,  by 
the  way,  she  would  have  done,  if  it  had  reached 
a  battle.  She  then  raised  her  two  pairs  of 
wings  in  a  most  peculiar  way,  one  above  the 
other,  all  four  in  a  row.  The  rear  end  of  the 
body  was  curled  up  like  a  bow,  and  her  whole 
frame  swayed  back  and  forth  in  a  furious  rage. 
It  was  a  most  curious  and  wonderful  exhibition 
of  passion  in  a  creature  not  three  inches  long. 

The  cat-bird  observed  all  this  display  with 
interest  as  great  as  our  own.  He  studied  her 
from  every  side,  and  tried  again  and  again  to 
penetrate  the  glass.  Every  way  he  turned  she 
was  ready  for  him,  facing  him  always  and  per- 
fectly prepared  to  grapple  with  him ;  and  strange 
as  it  sounds,  I  am  not  sure  of  the  result  of  the 
battle  had  no  glass  intervened.  She  would 
have  sprung  at  his  throat,  no  doubt,  and  held  on 
with  those  terrible  sharp-spined  arms,  till,  un- 
able to  rid  himself  of  them,  he  would  have  been 
choked. 

Happily  no  such  tragedy  occurred,  and  the 
next  tenant  of  the  glass  shade  was,  if  possible, 
more  interesting  still  to  the  bird.  This  was  an 
enormous  green  grasshopper  which  passed  the 
time  in  crawling  up  the  sides  of  his  prison,  and 


84'    "TRICKS  AND   MANNERS"    OF  A   CAT-BIRD. 

falling  over  on  his  back.  The  moment  he  ar- 
rived the  cat-bird  came  down  to  look  on.  He 
watched  with  great  attentiveness  the  slow  and 
careful  movements  of  the  insect  as  it  climbed 
the  glass,  bracing  itself  as  long  as  possible  with 
one  of  its  long  hind-legs  resting  on  the  floor. 
So  long  as  the  leg  remained  as  a  brace  it  was 
safe,  but  when  the  climber  had  to  withdraw  the 
support  to  go  higher,  its  movements  were  not 
so  sure,  and  suddenly  it  fell  over  backwards, 
landing  on  its  back  with  all  six  legs  wildly  paw- 
ing the  air.  The  human  observers  were  startled, 
but  the  effect  on  the  bird  was  laughable.  He 
made  one  bound,  landing  a  foot  away  ;  but  un- 
able to  conquer  his  curiosity,  slowly  and  warily 
returned,  to  be  again  startled  by  a  second  catas- 
trophe. This  performance  was  enacted  again 
and  again  so  long  as  the  stupid  green  insect 
remained  on  the  desk,  but  the  bird  never  lost 
his  interest  in  it,  and  never  failed  to  be  as 
much  startled  at  the  denouement  as  at  first. 
His  interest  in  my  doings  is  always  intense, 
and  at  every  fresh  movement  he  will  come 
down  to  the  corner  nearest  me,  if  in  his  cage, 
or  alight  on  the  back  of  my  desk,  if  out,  and 
peer  at  me  with  closest  attention.  One  thing 
that  seems  to  amaze  and  confound  him  is  my 
appearance  in  a  different  dress.  "  What  sort 
of  a  monster  is  this,"  his  manner  says,  "  which 


"TRICKS  AND  MANNERS"    OF  A   CAT-BIRD.     85 

can  change  its  feathers  so  rapidly  and  so  of- 
ten?" 

If  I  want  him  to  go  into  his  cage,  or  to  any 
part  of  the  room,  I  need  only  to  go  myself  and 
put  some  little  thing  there,  or  even  appear  to 
do  so ;  and  as  soon  as  I  retire  he  will  rush  over 
to  see  what  I  have  done. 

Next  to  his  curiosity  is  his  love  of  teasing. 
The  subject  furnishing  opportunity  for  a  dis- 
play of  this  quality  is  a  cardinal  grosbeak, 
which  cannot  be  coaxed  to  leave  his  cage.  The 
latter  is  the  older  resident,  and  he  did  not  re- 
ceive the  cat-bird  very  cordially.  In  fact,  he 
grew  cross  from  the  day  the  latter  arrived,  and 
snarled  and  scolded  every  time  he  came  near. 
The  cat-bird  soon  found  out  that  his  enemy 
never  left  the  cage,  and  since  then  has  consid- 
ered him  a  fit  subject  for  annoyance.  He  will 
alight  on  the  cardinal's  cage,  driving  him  nearly 
frantic ;  he  will  stand  on  a  shelf  near  the  cage, 
look  in,  and  try  to  get  at  the  food  dish,  —  all 
of  which  is  in  the  highest  degree  offensive,  and 
calls  forth  violent  scolds  and  screams  of  rage. 
Finally,  he  will  steal  a  grape  or  bit  of  fruit 
stuck  between  the  wires,  when  the  cardinal  will 
fairly  blaze  with  wrath.  At  one  time  the  cat- 
bird indulged  in  promenades  across  the  top  of 
the  cage,  until  the  exasperated  resident  resorted 
to  severe  measures,  and  by  nipping  his  toes 


86      "TRICKS  AND   MANNERS"    OF  A  CAT-BIRD. 

succeeded  in  convincing  his  tormentor  that  the 
top  of  his  house  was  not  a  public  highway. 

Worse  than  all  his  other  misdeeds,  however, 
was  a  deliberate  insult  he  paid  to  the  cardinal's 
singing.  This  ardent  musician  was  one  day  sit- 
ting down  011  his  perch,  as  he  is  fond  of  doing, 
and  singing  away  for  dear  life,  when  the  cat- 
bird alighted  on  the  window-sash,  close  by  the 
cage.  The  singer  kept  his  eye  on  him,  but 
proceeded  with  the  music  till  the  end  of  the 
strain,  when,  as  usual,  he  paused.  At  that  in- 
stant the  cat-bird  gave  his  tail  one  upward 
jerk,  as  if  to  say,  "  Humph  ! "  I  noticed  the 
insulting  air,  but  I  was  surprised  to  see  that  the 
cardinal  appreciated  it,  also.  He  began  again 
at  once,  in  much  louder  tone,  rising  to  his  feet, 
—  which  he  rarely  does,  —  lifting  his  crest, 
swaying  back  and  forth  in  a  perfect  rage,  glar- 
ing at  his  enemy,  and  pouring  out  his  usual 
song  in  such  a  flood  of  shrieks  and  calls  that 
even  the  calm  cat-bird  was  disturbed,  and  dis- 
creetly retired  to  the  opposite  window.  Then 
the  cardinal  seated  himself  again,  and  stopped 
his  song,  but  gave  vent  to  his  indignation  in  a 
most  energetic  series  of  sharp  "  tsips  "  for  a 
long  time. 

Quite  different  is  the  cat-bird's  treatment  of 
two  English  goldfinches.  On  them  he  plays 
jokes,  and  his  mischievous  delight  and  his 


"TRICKS  AND  MANNERS"    OF  A   CAT-BIRD.      87 

chuckling  at  their  success  are  plain  to  see. 
One  of  them  —  Chip,  by  name  —  knows  that 
when  he  is  in  his  cage,  with  the  door  shut,  he 
is  safe,  and  nothing  the  cat-bird  can  do  dis- 
turbs him  in  the  least ;  but  the  other  —  Chipee 
—  is  just  as  flustered  and  panic-stricken  in  her 
cage  as  out,  and  the  greatest  pleasure  of  his 
life  is  to  keep  her  wrought  up  to  the  fluttering 
point.  He  has  a  perfect  perception  of  the  dif- 
ference between  the  two  birds.  When  both  are 
out  he  will  chase  them  around  the  room,  from 
cornice  to  cornice  ;  drive  them  away  from  the 
bath,  which  they  all  have  on  a  table,  purely  for 
fun,  as  his  manner  shows.  But  once  caged,  he 
pays  no  further  attention  to  Chip,  while  always 
inventing  new  ways  to  worry  Chipee.  He 
alights  on  the  perch  between  the  cages,  crouches 
down,  with  eyes  fixed  upon  her  and  tail  jerk- 
ing, as  if  about  to  annihilate  her.  She  flies  in 
wild  panic  against  the  wires,  to  his  great  grati- 
fication. Then  he  ruffs  himself  up  to  look  ter- 
rible, spreads  his  legs  wide  apart,  blusters,  and 
jerks  his  body  and  wings  and  tail,  making 
feints  to  rush  at  her,  till  she  is  so  frightened 
that  I  take  pity  on  her  and  drive  him  away. 

One  day,  when  she  was  more  nervous  and  he 
more  impish  than  usual,  I  covered  her  cage 
with  a  towel.  He  came  back  as  soon  as  I  had 
left  it,  and  proceeded  to  inquire  into  this  new 


88     "TRICKS  AND  MANNERS"    OF  A   CAT-BIRD. 

screen.  After  looking  at  it  sharply  on  all  sides, 
he  went  around  behind  the  cage,  pulled  at  the 
end  of  the  towel,  and  peeped  in.  She  fluttered, 
and  he  was  pleased.  I  arranged  it  more  se- 
curely, and  the  next  performance  was  to  take 
hold  with  his  bill,  and  shake  it  violently.  This 
also  remedied,  his  last  resource  was  to  come 
down  on  the  end  of  the  perch  with  a  bounce, 
making  much  more  noise  than  usual ;  he  gen- 
erally alights  like  a  feather.  After  each  bounce 
he  would  stand  and  listen,  and  the  flutter  he 
always  heard  delighted  him  hugely.  As  long 
as  they  lived  in  the  same  room,  she  never  con- 
quered her  fear,  and  he  never  tired  of  playing 
pranks  around  her. 

If  to  learn  by  experience  is  a  sign  of  reason 
in  an  animal,  the  cat-bird  plainly  demonstrated 
his  possession  of  that  quality.  He  learned 
readily  by  experience.  Once  or  twice  alight- 
ing on  the  cane  seat  of  a  chair,  and  catching 
his  claws,  taught  him  that  was  not  a  place 
for  him,  and  he  did  it  no  more.  When  his 
claws  grew  so  long  as  to  curve  around  an  ordi- 
nary perch,  or  a  book,  after  being  caught  once 
or  twice,  he  managed  to  accommodate  himself 
to  this  new  condition,  and  start  in  a  different 
way.  Instead  of  diving  off  a  perch,  as  he  nat- 
urally does,  he  gave  a  little  jump  up.  The 
change  was  very  marked,  and  he  caught  his 
claws  no  more. 


"TRICKS  AND  MANNERS11    OF  A   CAT-BIRD.      89 

He  learned  to  ask  to  be  uncovered  in  the 
morning,  in  about  three  days.  He  would  begin 
his  uneasiness  quite  early,  flying  back  and  forth 
violently  in  the  cage,  and  at  last  he  would  call. 
I  wanted  to  see  if  he  would  learn,  so  the  mo- 
ment he  called  I  got  up  and  removed  the  cover 
which  protected  him  from  cold  at  night.  For 
two  or  three  mornings  he  did  the  same,  be- 
came uneasy,  flew  a  while,  and  then  called, 
when  I  at  once  responded.  From  the  third  day 
he  called  the  instant  he  wanted  to  be  uncov- 
ered, showing  no  more  restlessness,  and  calling 
again  and  again  if  I  did  not  move  at  once,  at 
last  giving  his  most  harsh  cry,  and  impatiently 
scolding  with  rage. 

To  beg  for  worms  was  an  easy  lesson.  Hav- 
ing two  or  three  times  received  them  from  a 
pair  of  tweezers  on  my  desk,  he  came  regularly ; 
perched  on  the  books ;  looked  at  me,  and  at 
the  cup  which  had  held  the  worms  ;  then,  if  I 
did  not  get  them,  opened  and  closed  his  bill, 
and  jerked  his  tail  impatiently. 

His  great  delight  is  to  secure  a  rubber  band, 
of  which  I  keep  two  sizes,  one  hardly  larger 
than  a  thread,  and  the  other  an  eighth  of 
an  inch  wide  and  two  inches  long  doubled. 
These  he  is  wild  to  get ;  and  since  he  treats 
them  as  he  does  worms,  I  conclude  that  their 
softness  and  elasticity  are  deceptive,  and  a  mys- 


90      "TRICKS  AND  MANNERS"   OF  A   CAT-BIRD. 

tery,  like  the  glass,  which  he  cannot  solve.  At 
any  rate,  after  beating  them  on  the  floor  as  he 
does  a  worm,  he  always  swallows  them.  He 
will  persist  in  swallowing  even  the  large  ones, 
and  sit  puffed  out  on  his  perch  in  evident  suf- 
fering for  hours,  before  he  discovers  that  he 
cannot  digest  it,  and  at  last  disgorges.  To  find 
a  rubber  band  is  the  desire  of  his  heart,  and 
to  keep  him  from  one  is  the  desire  of  mine. 
At  first,  when  he  pounced  upon  one,  he  would 
stand  on  my  desk  and  swallow  it ;  but  after  I 
tried  to  prevent  this,  he  learned  cunning.  The 
instant  his  eye  would  spy  one,  generally  under 
some  paper  in  my  drawer,  he  would  first  glance 
at  me,  then  snatch  the  treasure,  and  instantly 
fly  to  the  cornice,  where  I  cannot  reach  him. 
I  always  know  by  the  manner  of  his  departure 
that  he  has  found  what  he  knows,  perfectly 
well,  is  a  forbidden  object. 

Another  thing  interesting  to  observe  in  the 
cat-bird  is  his  way  of  hiding  himself,  when  in 
plain  sight  all  the  time.  He  simply  remains 
entirely  motionless,  and  one  may  look  directly 
at  him,  and  not  see  him,  so  well  does  his  plain 
dark  dress  harmonize  with  his  usual  surround- 
ings. Often  I  come  into  the  room  and  look 
about  for  him  in  all  his  favorite  places,  —  on 
the  cornice,  the  desk,  and  before  the  glass  ;  no 
bird  to  be  seen.  As  I  move  about  to  look  more 


"TRICKS  AND  MANNERS"    OF  A   CAT-BIRD.     91 

closely,  he  will  suddenly  fly  up  almost  from 
under  my  hand.  Still  as  he  can  keep,  his  move- 
ments are  rapid ;  he  is  deliberation  itself  in 
making  up  his  mind  to  go  anywhere,  but  once 
decided  he  goes  like  a  flash. 

When  a  new  bird  was  introduced  into  the 
room,  an  English  song  thrush,  twice  as  big  as 
himself,  the  cat-bird  was  at  first  uncertain  how 
to  treat  him ;  but  in  one  day  he  learned  that 
he  could  frighten  him.  The  small,  dark,  imp- 
ish-looking fellow,  rushing  madly  at  the  big, 
honest,  simple  thrush,  put  him  into  an  uncon- 
trollable panic.  As  soon  as  this  fact  was  estab- 
lished the  cat-bird  became  a  tyrant.  He  will 
not  allow  him  to  enjoy  anything  on  the  floor, 
drives  him  away  from  the  bath,  mocks  his 
singing  with  harsh  notes,  and  assumes  very 
saucy  airs  towards  him. 

The  worst  effect  of  the  thrush's  coming, 
however,  was  to  show  me  a  new  trait  of  the 
cat-bird's  character,  — jealousy.  The  first  day 
or  two  he  sulked,  would  not  go  out  of  his  cage, 
would  not  touch  meat,  and  though  he  has  grad- 
ually returned  to  his  liberty  and  his  meat,  he 
still  refuses,  now  after  two  months,  to  alight 
on  my  hands  for  his  tid-bits  as  he  did  before. 

Nothing  is  more  interesting  than  to  note  the 
variety  the  cat-bird  will  give  to  the  cry  which 
at  a  distance  resembles  the  "mew"  of  a  cat. 


92     "TRICKS  AND  MANNERS"    OF  A   CAT-BIRD. 

He  has  many  other  notes  and  calls,  besides  his 
exquisite  songs,  but  there  is  hardly  a  shade  of 
emotion  that  he  cannot  express  by  the  inflec- 
tion he  gives  to  that  one  cry.  Whether  he 
proclaims  a  melancholy  mood  by  softly  breath- 
ing it  from  closed  bill,  or  jerks  it  out  with  a 
snap  at  the  end,  as  though  he  bit  it  off,  when 
he  is  deprived  of  some  cherished  treasure,  —  as, 
for  instance,  a  rubber  band,  —  from  one  ex- 
treme to  the  other,  with  all  the  shades  between, 
each  expresses  a  meaning,  and  each  is  intelligi- 
ble to  a  loving  and  observing  student  of  his 
ways. 


THE  BIRD   OF  SOCIETY. 


"  'T  is  a  woodland  enchanted ! 
By  no  sadder  spirit 
Than  blackbirds  and  thrushes, 
That  whistle  to  cheer  it 
All  day  in  the  bushes, 
This  woodland  is  haunted : 
And  in  a  small  clearing, 
Beyond  sight  or  hearing 
Of  human  annoyance, 
The  little  fount  gushes." 

LOWELL. 

"  The  blackbirds  make  the  maples  ring 
With  social  cheer  and  jubilee ; 
The  redwing  flutes  his  o-ka-lee" 

EMERSON. 


VII. 
THE  BIRD  OF   SOCIETY. 


THE  redwing  blackbird  is  preeminently  a 
bird  of  social  tastes.  Nearly  the  whole  year 
he  lives  in  a  noisy  crowd,  calling,  screaming, 
and  singing  from  morning  till  night.  At  this 
time  in  his  life  his  manners  are  of  no  particular 
interest,  but  in  the  spring,  as  to  other  birds, 
comes  the  mysterious  impulse  to  leave  the  giddy 
throng,  to  retire  to  a  quiet  nook,  to  build  a  nest 
and  establish  a  family.  During  this  pleasing 
episode  in  his  ordinary  history,  his  personality 
reveals  itself.  He  is  no  longer  simply  a  unit 
in  a  lively  mob,  but  an  individual  with  well- 
marked  characteristics  and  tastes  of  his  own, 
and  he  then  becomes  attractive  to  the  student 
of  bird  ways.  It  is  in  his  domestic  capacity,  at 
the  head  of  a  family,  that  the  redwing  is  now 
presented  to  you. 

The  blackbird  nook  is  invariably  the  loveli- 
est spot  in  a  neighborhood,  and  is  never  hard 
to  find,  for  with  childlike  ingenuousness  he 


96  THE  BIRD   OF  SOCIETY. 

makes  himself  so  conspicuous,  and  his  business 
so  apparent,  that  the  dullest  observer  cannot  fail 
to  notice  him.  Long  before  you  reach  his  vi- 
cinity you  shall  hear  his  gleeful  "  Conk-a-ree  " 
(or  more  correctly  "  h'wa-ker-eeY'  as  Gentry  has 
it),  and,  as  you  approach,  his  loud  "  Chack  ! 
chack  !  "  challenging  your  right  to  intrude,  and 
demanding  your  business  in  his  retreat. 

But  draw  near,  even  if,  as  sometimes  hap- 
pens, the  bird  grows  belligerent  and  swoops 
down  toward  your  face.  You  will  find  a  clump 
of  trees  at  the  edge  of  the  water,  generally 
hedged  in  by  low,  thick-growing  shrubs.  Part 
the  branches,  in  defiance  of  his  angry  protests, 
stoop,  and  you  shall  step  into  a  most  charming 
spot,  his  chosen  home.  If  in  a  park  it  will  be 
a  bit  of  wildness,  left  as  nature  planned  it,  un- 
frequented and  perfectly  secluded,  though  per- 
haps not  ten  feet  from  a  common  walk. 

Within  the  thick  shrouding  bushes  the  ground 
is  bare  or  thinly  clad  with  low  shrubs,  and  tall 
trees  completely  shade  the  leafy  temple,  which 
is  cool  and  roomy  and  refreshing  in  its  peculiar 
green  light.  One  side  borders  the  water,  and 
there,  low  among  the  reeds,  is  doubtless  the 
homestead  so  highly  regarded,  and  so  poorly 
concealed.  But  though  the  spot  be  lonely,  you 
shall  not  enjoy  it  in  peace,  for  this  anxious  par- 
ent, the  most  fussy  and  restless  of  feathered 


THE  BIRD  OF  SOCIETY.  97 

folk,  will  not  cease  to  scold  and  scream  so  long 
"as  you  stay,  running  along  the  branches,  and 
eying  you  from  every  side. 

Should  his  mate  be  sitting  she  will  keep  si- 
lent, and  show  herself  more  wary  than  her 
spouse,  but  if  the  young  are  out  she  will  soon 
appear.  She  differs  so  greatly  from  her  con- 
sort that  you  may  not  recognize  her  till  she 
adds  her  volubility  to  the  mel6e  and  you  per- 
ceive that  her  voice  is  exactly  like  his.  She  is 
smaller,  and  an  inconspicuous  gray  and  brown 
in  color,  which  better  fits  her  for  her  maternal 
duties,  but  her  manner  of  carrying  herself,  her 
restlessness,  and  the  expressive  use  of  the  tail 
are  like  his.  He  is  the  most  conspicuous  fea- 
ture in  the  landscape ;  shining  black  from  the 
point  of  the  bill  to  the  tip  of  the  toes,  his  color 
harmonizes  with  nothing  in  nature,  and  his  gold- 
fringed,  scarlet  epaulets  gleam  through  the  trees 
like  gems. 

Sit  down  quietly  and  watch  the  bird.  Not- 
withstanding his  "  society  "  life  he  has  not  the 
slightest  repose  of  manner.  He  is  incessantly 
in  motion ;  to  stand  still  and  be  looked  at  is  im- 
possible to  a  blackbird.  He  will  walk  along  a 
small  branch  in  such  a  way  that  it  requires  a 
close  look  to  see  that  he  does  not  put  one  foot 
before  the  other.  He  really  "sidles,"  but  holds 
his  body  in  the  direction  he  is  moving,  so  that 


98  THE  BIRD  OF  SOCIETY. 

one  is  easily  deceived.  Then  he  will  jump 
heavily  to  the  next  bough,  and  walk  the  length 
of  that,  jerking  his  tail  at  every  step,  and  all 
the  time  scolding  and  screaming  at  the  top  of 
his  voice,  till  you  are  sure  the  whole  bird  world 
will  be  notified  of  the  presence  of  an  inquisi- 
tive stranger  with  suspicious  manners. 

Should  the  young  be  out,  you  will  quickly  be 
informed  of  the  fact  by  the  presence  of  the 
modestly  dressed  mother,  who  will  appear,  per- 
haps, with  a  mouthful  of  food,  which,  however, 
will  not  prevent  her  uttering  the  blackbird 
"  Chack  !  chack  !  "  She  will  resent  your  intru- 
sion earnestly,  hopping  uneasily  about  the  tree, 
anxious  to  carry  her  load  to  the  nest,  yet  fear- 
ing to  have  you  see  her,  till  at  length  she  will 
slip  behind  the  trunk  and  silently  take  wing 
from  the  further  side,  while  her  ingenuous 
spouse,  perfectly  confident  of  the  success  of  her 
ruse,  delivers  a  triumphant  cry. 

Such  childlike  faith  is  not  to  be  betrayed. 
You  have  not  the  heart  to  follow  that  troubled 
mother  to  the  clump  of  low  bushes  where  her 
treasure  is  hidden.  You  are  not  here  as  a  rob- 
ber, or  a  violator  of  homes,  however  small,  but 
as  a  student  of  life.  To-morrow  you  shall  re- 
turn and  see  the  darlings  of  the  blackbird  fam- 
ily out  on  the  tree,  which  is  much  more  satis- 
factory than  to  disturb  the  nest,  and  distress 
the  owners  thereof. 


THE  BIRD    OF  SOCIETY.  99 

If  you  keep  still  so  long  that  the  lively  bird 
forgets  your  presence  and  becomes  less  noisy, 
you  may  see  him  sit  down  on  a  branch  to  rest 
after  his  excitement,  letting  his  tail  hang 
straight  down  ;  and  now  and  then,  stretching 
out  his  long  neck  till  the  feathers  stand  apart, 
sNvell  out  his  throat  and  treat  you  to  his  song. 
If  the  hour  is  favorable  you  may  see  him  bathe, 
and  it  is  worth  seeing,  for  he  is  exceedingly 
fond  of  water.  He  spatters  and  splashes  with 
a  good  will,  and  although  too  careless  a  fellow 
to  be  much  of  a  dandy  in  his  subsequent  toilet, 
—  simply  shaking  himself  violently,  and  leav- 
ing the  sunshine  to  complete  the  drying,  — yet 
his  coat  is  bright  and  shining. 

When  the  young  blackbird  family  appears 
on  the  tree,  the  spectacle  is  most  amusing. 
The  father,  fussy  as  the  celebrated  "  hen  with 
one  chicken,"  hopping  and  running  over  the 
branches,  chattering  all  the  time,  and  now  and 
then  offering  a  dainty  morsel  to  one  of  the  in- 
fants ;  the  mother  busy  enough  trying  to  fill  the 
ever  yawning  mouths ;  and  the  clumsy  young- 
sters themselves,  as  big  as  their  mother  and  ex- 
actly like  her  in  color,  too  restless  to  keep  near 
each  other,  but  sidling  along  the  branches  and 
hopping  awkwardly  about  the  tree,  so  that  the 
mother  has  to  seek  them  in  a  new  place  every 
time  she  returns  from  her  excursions  for  food. 


100  THE  BIRD   OF  SOCIETY. 

For  several  days  the  feeding  goes  on,  till  the 
youngsters'  tails  have  fully  grown  out,  and  one 
cannot  tell  them  from  the  mother,  and  then 
some  morning  the  student  creeps  into  the  black- 
bird nook,  and  finds  it  strangely  quiet,  and  the 
whole  family  gone.  It  is  probably  quite  broken 
up,  the  father  has  resumed  his  bachelor  ways 
in  the  society  of  his  kind,  and  the  full  grown 
young  of  the  neighborhood  are  enjoying  life  in 
their  own  fashion  in  a  flock  by  themselves. 

The  summer  home  life  of  the  blackbird  is 
over,  and  you  will  seek  him  in  vain  in  the  nook. 
Henceforth  it  is  the  open  country  and  the 
cornfields  where  he  is  to  be  found,  under  many 
names,  but  uneasy  and  voluble  as  ever,  and 
here  we  will  not  follow  him. 

The  noises  a  blackbird  will  make  are  of 
great  variety,  more  than  one  would  suspect  who 
has  not  studied  him  in  confinement.  His  close 
acquaintance  with  all  the  sounds  a  bird  will 
make  and  the  emotions  indicated  by  the  differ- 
ent cries  and  calls  is  perhaps  the  most  useful 
knowledge  to  be  gained  by  keeping  him  in  cap- 
tivity. The  blackbird  in  the  house  has  made 
every  slightest  sound  familiar,  and  you  never 
mistake  him  for  any  other,  however  far-off  or 
well-concealed. 

The  song  of  this  bird  has  been  variously 
characterized,  but  rarely  appreciated.  It  is,  in 


THE  BIRD    OF  SOCIETY.  101 

truth,  when  heard  away  from  the  crowd  a 
wild,  rich  strain,  bringing  memories  of  the 
woods  in  long  summer  days,  the  delightful  odor 
of  fresh  earth  and  strong  vegetable  growth.  It 
is  impossible  to  describe,  but  no  bird's  song  is 
more  expressive  of  his  life,  or  more  suggestive 
of  wild  nature.  It  consists  of  two  strains, 
each  of  which  is  varied.  That  most  commonly 
heard  has  been  well  represented  —  as  I  said  — 
by  the  syllables  "  h'  wa-ker-ee,"  on  an  ascend- 
ing scale.  Heard  nearer,  however,  this  strain 
is  found  to  consist  always  of  four  notes  (one 
lower  in  the  beginning),  and  often  of  six.  If 
the  usually  heard  notes  are  supposed  "  do-mi- 
sol-do,"  beginning  on  low  C,  (which  they  nearly 
resemble)  the  bird  varies  it  by  sometimes  sing- 
ing "  sol-mi-do-mi-sol-do,"  in  the  same  octave, 
and  occasionally  by  throwing  in  a  note  be- 
tween each  of  the  original  four.  The  whole 
has  an  indescribable  quality,  and  the  final 
"  do  "  is  often  a  well-executed  trill.  The  sec- 
ond strain  is  of  similar  notes,  only  in  a  minor 
key.  If  the  tones  cannot  be  said  to  be  sweet 
in  themselves,  it  must  be  remembered  that  they 
are  intended  for  distant  effects,  and  at  least 
they  are  clear,  perfectly  suited  to  the  woods, 
and  not  unpleasing  even  in  a  room. 

But  his  song  is  the  smallest  of  the  blackbird's 
utterances.    To  begin  with,  is  his  familiar  harsh 


102  THE  BIRD   OF  SOCIETY. 

"  chack,"  expressing  various  emotions,  being 
sometimes  softened  into  "check,"  and  "chick," 
and  even  with  closed  bill  into  a  rich  "  chuck." 
Besides  this  he  has  a  shrill  scream  —  it  can  be 
called  nothing  else  —  on  a  high  key,  a  sharp, 
insect-like  sound,  and  a  rough  aspirate,  when 
displeased,  like  the  first  sound  of  "  h."  Aside 
from  all  these,  however,  this  bird  possesses  one 
genuinely  sweet,  most  musical  note.  It  is  a 
single  call  which  sounds  like  "  ee-u  u."  He 
gives  it  sometimes  when  flying,  and  in  captivity 
when  enjoying  anything  exceedingly.  For  in- 
stance, in  bathing  he  will  utter  that  note,  and 
if  one  answers  in  a  moderately  close  imitation 
on  the  same  key,  he  will  repeat  it.  I  have 
kept  one  saying  it  over  for  twenty  times  or 
more. 

Poets  and  naturalists  have  exhausted  adjec- 
tives in  ridiculing  the  blackbird's  song,  but  the 
reasons  for  the  peculiar  discordance  of  a  flock 
are  not  far  to  seek.  In  the  first  place,  when 
birds  begin  to  moult,  and  their  usually  clear, 
decided  notes  break,  crack,  and  fail  miserably, 
nearly  every  one  takes  refuge  in  silence.  If  he 
cannot  sing  his  best,  he  will  not  sing  at  all. 
The  blackbird  is  the  only  exception  I  know, 
and  he  is  so  brimming  over  with  spirits  and  jol- 
lity that  sing  he  must.  He  is  not  discouraged, 
although  his  attempted  "  h'  wa-ker-ee !  "  ends 


THE  BIRD   OF  SOCIETY.  103 

in  the  first  syllable  in  a  crack,  or  choke,  or  even 
in  a  dismal  squeal,  as  it  sometimes  does.  He 
simply  pauses  a  moment  as  if  to  collect  his  en- 
ergies, and  then  utters  his  whole  song,  every 
note  clearly  and  well,  as  if  to  say,  "  That  was 
only  a  slip  ;  you  see  I  can  sing  yet."  It  is  ex- 
tremely interesting  to  hear  the  gentle,  low  trials 
which  he  will  give  of  his  returning  powers  when 
the  moulting  season  is  over;  whispered  songs, 
as  it  were,  till  he  is  sure  he  has  recovered  his 
voice,  and  can  utter  the  full,  clear  song  in 
which  he  delights. 

Then,  again,  his  song  needs  for  full  enjoy- 
ment to  be  alone,  while  in  the  "  madding 
crowd  "  of  a  flock  of  blackbirds,  noisy  and  gar- 
rulous as  a  pack  of  school-children,  the  "  h'  wa- 
ker-ee  "  of  one  is  spoiled  by  the  scream  of  an- 
other and  the  "  chack,  chack's "  of  twenty 
more.  Listen  to  one  bird  alone  in  his  own 
chosen  nook,  and  no  song  in  the  woods  seems 
more  appropriate,  more  to  breathe  the  very  soul 
of  wildness. 

When  this  bird  expresses  his  emotions  in  a 
house  the  strain  is  most  characteristic,  being  a 
curious  medley  of  all  the  sounds  he  can  make 
in  rapid  succession,  as  "  h'  wa-ker-ee  !  chack, 
chack !  (scream)  ee-uu !  chack,  chack  !  (scream) 
chick,  chick !  ee-u  u !  h'  wa-ker-ee  !  (scream  )  " 
and  so  on  for  fifteen  minutes  or  more  without 


104  THE  BIRD   OF  SOCIETY. 

pause.  His  morning  song  is  the  "h'  wa-ker-ee  " 
alone  at  intervals  of  a  minute  or  less.  In  happy 
captivity  he  will  sing  thus  for  an  hour,  while 
yet  the  room  is  dark,  and  before  he  touches 
food. 

I  spoke  of  the  blackbird's  fondness  for  water. 
In  a  cage  it  is  impossible  to  keep  more  than  a 
quarter  of  an  inch  of  water  in  his  dish.  This 
element  is  simply  irresistible.  The  first  thing 
he  does  is  to  spatter  as  much  out  as  he  can,  and 
then  with  every  mouthful  of  food,  before  and 
after  and  in  the  middle  of  his  eating,  he  wants 
water.  Seeds  he  cracks  over  the  dish  and  gath- 
ers the  fragments  as  they  float ;  of  mocking-bird 
food  he  takes  a  beakful  and  deliberately  drops 
it  in  the  water  and  eats  the  particles  daintily 
from  the  top. 

He  is  the  only  bird  I  have  seen  pay  particu- 
lar attention  to  bathing  his  feet,  but  my  black- 
bird will  stand  on  the  edge  of  his  bathing  dish, 
fill  his  beak  with  water  and  pass  it  down  over 
each  toe  in  succession,  letting  the  water  flow 
over  it,  and  apparently  scraping  the  whole 
length  carefully.  I  have  watched  this  very 
closely  while  not  three  feet  from  him. 

The  same  bird  learned  in  a  few  days  to  know 
his  regular  attendant,  and  while  remaining  for 
months  quite  wild  on  the  approach  of  the  gen- 
tleman of  the  family,  whom  he  saw  every  day, 


THE  BIRD   OF  SOCIETY.  105 

was  never  in  the  least  wild  with  me.  From 
the  first  he  took  food  from  my  hand,  and  before 
he  had  been  in  the  house  a  week,  seeing  one 
day  a  thrush  standing  on  my  knee  and  receiv- 
ing meat  from  my  hand,  he  came  out  of  his 
cage,  flew  across  the  room  and  alighted  beside 
the  thrush  (who  instantly  vacated  his  position) 
and  stood  there  as  long  as  I  fed  him,  showing 
not  the  least  fear.  A  little  later,  when  he  be- 
came ill,  and  so  weak  that  he  hesitated  to  de- 
scend his  three  perches  for  food  because  of  his 
uncertain  footing,  he  allowed  me  to  put  my 
hand  in  the  cage  and  hold  his  dish  up  to  him 
on  the  upper  perch,  when  he  would  eat  freely, 
and  then,  when  I  offered  the  water,  drink 
also.  For  two  or  three  days  he  ate  in  no  other 
way,  and  I  am  confident  I  thus  kept  him  alive 
while  curing  him  of  his  ailment. 

This  bird  has  now  lived  with  me  many 
months,  and  though  his  cage  door  is  always 
open  he  seldom  comes  out,  and  when  he  does  is 
very  glad  to  get  back.  He  is  observing,  no- 
tices in  a  moment  if  I  have  anything  to  eat, 
and  comes  instantly  to  the  side  near  to  me  and 
calls,  till  I  offer  him  a  bit  of  whatever  it  may 
be,  when  he  descends  to  his  beloved  water-cup, 
tastes  the  morsel  and  usually  deposits  it  tidily 
in  one  of  his  dishes.  He  had  a  strange  experi- 
ence a  few  months  ago ;  he  broke  off  the  end 


106  THE  BIRD  OF  SOCIETY. 

of  his  bill.  First  the  upper  mandible  appeared 
a  quarter  of  an  inch  shorter  than  the  lower, 
and  he  had  great  trouble  to  eat,  though  he 
sang  as  merrily  as  usual.  In  a  day  or  two, 
while  I  was  seeking  advice  on  the  subject, 
which  by  the  way  I  did  not  get,  for  no  one 
that  I  could  find  ever  heard  of  such  a  case,  he 
broke  the  lower  one  to  match.  Since  then  he 
is  as  happy  as  ever,  disturbed  by  nothing  ex- 
cept the  singing  of  one  of  his  neighbors,  whom 
it  seems  to  be  the  aim  of  his  life  to  reduce  to 
silence.  If  volume  would  do  it  success  must 
crown  his  efforts,  but  his  opponent  is  a  plucky 
little  fellow  and  refuses  to  be  suppressed,  and 
so  for  months  the  unequal  rivalry  has  con- 
tinued. 

The  redwing  is  never  by  any  chance  grace- 
ful. He  walks  about  the  floor  like  an  old  man 
with  the  gout,  and  he  has  a  curious  fashion  of 
thrusting  his  long  bill  into  a  dish  and  then 
opening  it,  as  if  to  pry  the  seed  or  water  apart. 
He  does  the  same  under  the  edge  of  a  towel  or 
newspaper  on  the  floor. 

One  funny  little  exhibition  of  intelligence  was 
furnished  by  the  blackbird  and  a  thrush.  The 
latter  chose  to  alight  beside  the  former's  cage, 
and  attempt  to  pull  things  through  the  wires. 
The  indignant  owner  came  down  to  the  corner 
nearest  the  intruder  and  began  to  scold  "  Chack ! 


THE   BIRD   OF  SOCIETY.  107 

(scream)  chack!  (scream)."  The  thrush  went 
calmly  on  with  his  occupation,  seeing  which 
the  blackbird  slightly  raised  the  wing  nearest 
the  enemy  and  quivered  it  with  excitement, 
while  repeating  the  salutation  above.  Finding 
the  thrush  not  in  the  least  disturbed  by  this 
demonstration  he  resorted  to  more  severe  meas- 
ures, and  gave  a  violent  peck  between  the  wires 
(touching  nothing,  however).  This  settled  the 
matter,  but  the  queer  thing  about  it  was  the 
fact  that  both  birds  would  pause  in  their  hos- 
tilities every  few  seconds  and  look  over  to 
where  I  sat.  I  feigned  not  to  see  them,  and 
then  they  resumed  their  demonstrations,  acting 
exactly  like  two  quarrelsome  children  who  look 
to  see  if  they  are  observed.  It  showed  an  in- 
telligent acknowledgment  of  my  position  as 
law-maker,  and  a  recognition  of  the  possibility 
of  my  being  displeased,  besides  a  guilty  con- 
sciousness of  wrong  doing. 

The  blackbird's  use  of  his  wings  is  exceed- 
ingly expressive.  On  one  occasion,  wishing  to 
carry  him  to  another  house,  I  placed  him  in  the 
basket  I  keep  for  the  purpose,  comfortably 
fitted  with  perch  and  food  dishes.  In  this 
conveyance  he  remained  an  hour,  and  when  I 
took  him  out  he  was  in  a  new  cage  in  a  room 
he  had  never  seen.  He  noticed  the  strangeness 
of  his  surroundings,  examined  every  part  of  the 


108  THE  BIRD   OF  SOCIETY. 

cage  with  interest  and  at  last  came  and  stood 
on  the  side  nearest  me.  I  began  to  talk  to 
him,  when  he  at  once  showed  the  deepest  at- 
tention, held  both  wings  slightly  away  from 
his  body,  and  quivering,  while  head  and  body 
swayed  from  side  to  side,  and  his  eyes  were 
fixed  on  mine.  "  Why  have  you  done  this 
thing?"  his  manner  said.  "Why  have  you 
torn  me  from  my  familiar  home,  confined  me 
in  a  basket,  and  placed  me  among  strangers  at 
last  ?  " 

So  evident  was  his  emotion,  and  so  eloquent 
his  expression  of  it,  that  I  am  not  ashamed  to 
admit  that  I  was  greatly  touched. 


"UPON  THE  TREE-TOP.' 


"  Hush  !  'T  is  he  ! 

My  oriole,  my  glance  of  summer  fire, 
Is  come  at  last,  and,  ever  on  the  watch, 
Twitches  the  pack-thread  I  had  lightly  wound 
About  the  bough  to  help  his  housekeeping,  — 
Twitches  and  scouts  by  turns,  blessing  his  luck, 
Yet  fearing  one  who  laid  it  in  his  way, 
Nor,  more  than  wiser  we  in  our  affairs, 
Divines  the  providence  that  hides  and  helps." 

LOWELL. 


VIII. 
UPON  THE   TREE-TOP.' 


WHEN  I  stepped  into  the  yard  of  the  cottage 
that  was  to  be  my  home  for  a  month,  the  first 
bird  I  saw  was  a  Baltimore  oriole,  perched  on  a 
dead  branch  near  the  top  of  a  tall  old  apple- 
tree.  His  rich  colors  shone  brightly  against  the 
foliage  behind  him,  and  he  was  evidently  at 
home,  for  he  had  the  air  of  a  proprietor.  I  was 
pleased ;  but  the  sentiment  was  not  mutual. 
He  greeted  me  with  scolding,  and  as  that  did 
not  drive  me  away  he  became  restless,  hopped 
from  branch  to  branch,  flirting  his  tail  and 
showing  extreme  uneasiness.  Looking  about 
for  the  reason  of  his  uncalled-for  hostilities,  I 
saw  the  nest,  on  a  slender  branch  of  a  young 
maple,  ten  or  twelve  feet  high.  He  was  on 
guard,  and  it  was  in  his  official  capacity  of  spe- 
cial police  that  he  had  given  me  so  inhospitable 
a  reception.  Nor  could  I  wonder ;  it  must  have 
been  disconcerting  to  him.  Relying  upon  a  cot- 
tage shut  up  and  stowing  no  signs  of  life,  he 


112  "  UPON  THE   TREE-TOP." 

had  set  up  housekeeping  not  a  dozen  feet  from 
the  kitchen  door,  and  naturally,  on  so  small  a 
tree,  in  a  most  conspicuous  position ;  when 
suddenly  the  silent  old  building  had  burst 
open  at  every  window  and  door,  and  swarmed 
with  human  life.  A  mischievous  boy  or  an  in- 
quisitive student  of  bird  ways  might  cause  un- 
told trouble  and  alarm  in  that  small  household. 
Such,  at  least  I  fancied,  were  the  reflections  of 
the  troubled  soul  in  that  agitated  body  as  he 
looked  down  upon  us,  watching  every  move- 
ment, flitting  from  tree  to  tree,  but  never  los- 
ing sight  of  any  one  who  chanced  to  be  in  the 
orchard.  During  this  uneasy  period  I  saw  what 
looked  like  a  deliberate  intention  to  deceive. 
In  examining  this  new  field  I  noticed  a  small 
nest  in  an  upright  fork  of  an  old  tree,  in  a  dead 
branch  at  the  top,  doubtless  a  last  year's  home 
of  some  small  bird.  While  I  looked  at  it,  the 
oriole  flew  from  his  perch  directly  to  it,  leaned 
over  as  if  interested  in  its  contents,  and  so  in- 
tently that  I  could  not  resist  the  conviction 
that  he  wished  to  mislead  me,  for  when  I  ex- 
amined his  nest,  and  he  saw  that  all  disguise 
was  at  an  end,  he  never  again,  that  I  saw,  went 
near  that  deserted  residence. 

This  oriole  was  a  remarkably  silent  bird, 
the  first  of  his  family  that  I  have  noticed  who 
passed  hour  after  hour  without  opening  his 


"  UPON   THE   TREE-TOP."  113 

mouth  to  sing,  and,  I  sometimes  thought,  to  eat, 
so  quietly  did  he  sit  on  the  branch  overlooking 
his  homestead.  Happily,  he  soon  learned  that 
we  were  friends,  and  if,  perhaps,  somewhat  pry- 
ing as  toxins  domestic  concerns,  still  not  intend- 
ing harm.  He  grew  more  free  in  movement, 
ventured  now  and  then  to  desert  his  post  of 
watcher,  and  be  absent  a  half-hour  at  a  time ; 
also  he  found  his  voice,  and  entertained  us  with 
calls,  single  notes  of  the  rich  flute-like  quality 
for  which  his  family  is  noted,  and  very  rarely 
with  his  song. 

It  was  the  third  day  of  June,  and  sitting  was 
already  begun.  The  tree  on  which  his  nest 
was  placed  had  ten  branches,  not  one  over 
two  feet  long ;  the  eighth  was  the  largest, 
and  on  that  hung  the  oriole  nursery.  It  was 
pretty  to  see  the  birds  approach  it.  When 
not  alarmed,  they  invariably  alighted  on  the 
lowest  branch,  near  the  stem  of  the  tree,  and 
hopped  from  step  to  step  upward  ;  in  leaving 
they  never  retraced  their  steps,  but  mounted 
the  two  remaining  branches,  and  took  flight 
from  the  top  twig.  When  the  female  reached 
home  after  a  short  absence,  she  hastened  up  the 
winding  stairs,  looked  anxiously  at  her  treas- 
ures, plunged  in  head-first,  and  then,  quick  as  a 
jack-in-the-box,  thrust  her  head  above  the  edge 
for  a  last  look,  before  she  settled  out  of  sight 


114  "  UPON  THE  TREE-TOP." 

within.  Very  seldom  did  both  birds  leave 
home  at  the  same  time.  When  she  was  obliged 
to  go  for  food,  for  he  never  appeared  to  bring 
her  anything,  she  uttered  a  call;  he  at  once 
responded,  and  placed  himself  on  his  post  of  ob- 
servation to  watch;  on  returning  she  dropped 
another  note  or  two,  as  if  of  thanks,  and  then 
he  flew  away.  Once,  in  the  early  morning, 
before  the  house  was  open,  I  found  them  both 
off,  so  I  concluded  it  was  because  of  us  that  they 
were  so  vigilant  during  the  day.  A  more  con, 
stant  and  jealous  watcher  than  this  bird  could 
scarcely  be.  When  not  in  the  apple  boughs, 
he  might  generally  be  seen  in  a  tree  in  the  next 
lot,  a  little  farther  off,  and  it  seemed  as  if  he 
was  not  absent  long  enough  to  get  necessary 
food. 

One  day  an  impatient  visitor,  wishing  to  see 
if  the  oriole  was  at  home,  gave  the  tree  a  violent 
shake.  She  was  at  home,  and  she  flew  off  in  a 
rage,  perching  on  the  next  tree,  scolding  and 
shaking  her  wings  at  him,  every  moment  emit- 
ting a  peculiar  cry,  new  to  me  then,  but  very 
familiar  later,  —  the  cry  of  distress.  In  a  mo- 
ment or  two  this  brought  upon  the  scene  her 
mate,  who  added  his  cries  and  demonstrations 
to  hers.  The  perpetrator  of  this  rude  joke  re- 
tired, somewhat  ashamed,  and  it  was  interesting 
to  see  how  long  it  was  after  all  was  quiet  before 


"  UPON  THE    TREE-TOP."  115 

the  birds  were  reassured.  He  went  to  the  nest 
and  looked  in,  but  she  could  not  be  persuaded 
that  it  was  safe  for  her  to  return.  She  flew 
back  and  forth  between  two  trees  about  a  hun- 
dred feet  apart.  In  the  route  she  went  past  her 
home  ;  after  flying  straight  by  once  or  twice, 
her  course  began  to  swerve  a  little  towards  her 
own  tree ;  the  second  time  she  almost  reached 
it,  but  turned  and  went  on ;  the  third  time  she 
alighted  an  instant  on  the  lowest  step,  hastily 
flying  away  as  if  she  expected  another  earth- 
quake ;  the  fourth  time  she  rapidly  mounted 
her  winding  stairs,  and  glanced  in  the  nest; 
the  fifth  time  she  entered  it  for  a  moment ;  the 
sixth  time  she  stayed. 

One  morning,  after  breakfast,  an  unusual 
sound  was  heard,  the  same  by  which  the  female 
oriole  when  in  trouble  had  called  her  mate,  — 
the  signal  of  distress.  It  came  from  the  front 
of  the  house,  and  I  hastened  to  see  what  was 
amiss  with  the  little  family.  Before  I  reached 
them  I  noticed  the  cawing  of  a  crow  nearer 
than  we  usually  heard  that  sound,  and  when  I 
came  in  sight  of  the  woods  on  that  side,  be- 
hold !  Corvus  himself  on  the  top  branch  of  a 
tall  tree,  perfectly  outlined  against  the  sky, 
cawing  his  loudest.  The  oriole  was  not  in 
sight,  but  while  I  looked  a  second  crow  rose 
from  the  woods,  and  after  him,  to  my  surprise, 


116  "UPON  THE   TREE-TOP." 

the  oriole.  He  pursued  the  same  tactics  that 
the  kingbird  does,  flying  above  the  enemy  and 
pouncing  upon  the  back  of  his  head  or  neck. 
The  crow  flew  over  the  orchard,  accompanied 
all  the  way  by  his  plucky  little  assailant,  while 
the  first  crow  remained  on  the  perch  and  en- 
couraged his  comrade  till  both  were  out  of 
sight,  when  he  also  took  wing  and  followed. 
They  were  out  of  sight  certainly,  but  not  out 
of  hearing,  for  the  cry  of  the  oriole  and  the 
caw  of  the  crow  came  to  us  for  half  an  hour, 
growing  more  and  more  distant,  however,  till  I 
began  to  fear  that  unlucky  oriole  would  be 
completely  exhausted,  or  possibly  dispatched  — 
which  would  have  been  easy  enough  if  the  two 
crows  had  combined,  for  he  was  utterly  reck- 
less in  his  attack.  Just  as  I  was  becoming 
anxious,  for  the  sounds  had  ceased,  I  heard  a 
joyous  song  of  triumph,  and  there  he  was  !  — 
in  the  old  spot,  looking  as  fresh  and  gay  as  if 
he  had  not  come  from  a  battle-field.  Upon  his 
cry,  the  little  spouse  came  out  of  the  nest,  and 
responded  with  a  few  notes,  evidently  praise  of 
his  bravery,  for  he  fidgeted  about  in  a  self-con- 
scious way,  bowed  his  head,  flirted  his  wings, 
and  manifested  great  excitement  for  some  time. 
But  though  driven  away,  the  crows  were  not 
conquered,  and  the  next  morning  I  was  wa- 
kened by  the  voice  of  a  crow  so  very  near  that 


"  UPON  THE  TREE-TOP:*  117 

I  sprang  to  the  window.  It  was  five  o'clock, 
and  of  course  perfectly  light,  and  there  sat  the 
marauder  in  plain  sight  on  an  apple-tree  in  the 
orchard,  a  thing  the  wary  bird  never  did  after 
getting-up  time.  The  oriole  was  there  also, 
uttering  his  war  cry ;  and  hidden  from  them  by 
the  blinds  I  had  a  perfect  opportunity  to  see 
his  method  of  attack.  I  have  never  seen  the 
kingbird  annoy  a  crow  except  when  flying : 
while  the  crow  is  at  rest,  the  kingbird  also  re- 
mains quiet,  at  some  little  distance.  Not  so  my 
brave  oriole  ;  he  harassed  that  crow  constantly, 
alighting  not  more  than  two  feet  from  him,  and 
at  his  own  level,  so  that  I  was  surprised  the 
crow  did  not  seize  him,  for  I  am  sure  he  was 
easily  within  reach.  The  oriole  called  and 
bowed,  turned  this  way  and  that,  holding  his 
wings  a  little  out  and  fluttering  them,  and  then 
he  flew  over  and  pecked  at  the  crow  as  he 
went,  alighting  on  the  other  side  ;  then,  in  a 
moment,  after  more  posturing  and  calling,  re- 
turned in  the  same  way.  So  he  kept  up  the 
warfare,  while  the  crow  continued  his  cawing, 
being  answered  from  the  next  lot,  but  made  no 
attempt  to  put  an  end  to  the  attacks.  Fully 
five  minutes  he  sat  there,  though  it  was  mani- 
festly not  comfortable,  for  he  lowered  his  head 
to  avoid  the  beak  of  his  tormentor,  and  once  or 
twice  turned  and  seemed  to  snap  at  him. 


118  "  UPON  THE  TREE-TOP." 

When  at  last  he  flew,  his  small  foe  was  upon 
him.  I  thought  it  strange  that  of  the  twenty- 
five  or  thirty  birds  which  frequented  the  place, 
among  which  were  several  known  to  fight  the 
crow,  not  one  came  to  help.  If  the  robins  and 
cat-birds  and  others  whose  territory  he  invaded 
had  united,  they  could  have  driven  him  away 
at  once,  but  perhaps  mobbing  is  the  exclusive 
prerogative  of  the  English  house  sparrow. 

The  next  encounter  I  saw  was  also  early  in 
the  morning.  First  I  noticed  a  crow  silently 
fly  over,  and  perch  in  the  top  of  a  pine-tree.  It 
was  a  singular  place,  and  most  undesirable  ap- 
parently, for  it  was  in  the  middle  of  a  clump  of 
top  branches  of  about  the  same  height.  The 
crow  seemed  to  have  trouble  in  adjusting  him- 
self among  the  hundreds  of  sharp  needles  that 
pointed  upward,  changing  his  position  and  set- 
tling himself  with  difficulty,  but  at  length  he 
seemed  satisfied  with  his  arrangements,  and 
began  his  loud  caw.  In  a  moment  the  oriole 
was  after  him,  and  I  now  guessed  the  reason  of 
his  choice  of  seat.  There  were  no  surrounding 
twigs  which  his  foe  could  use  as  a  base  for  of- 
fensive operations,  and  moreover  the  bristling 
needles  which  surrounded  him  offered  very  good 
protection  from  the  fiery  little  oriole,  who  found 
it  impossible  to  pursue  his  usual  tactics.  I  was 
amused  to  see  the  wary  precautions  of  the  crow, 


"  UPON  THE   TREE-TOP."  119 

and  doubtless  he  thought  he  had  outwitted  the 
enemy.  But  he  underrated  the  intelligence  of 
the  small  bird,  for  although  difficult  to  reach 
him,  it  was  not  at  all  impossible.  He  simply 
rose  above  the  crow,  pounced  directly  upon 
him,  and  instantly  rose  again,  instead  of  glanc- 
ing off  one  side  as  usual.  It  was  distinctly  dif- 
ferent, but  equally  effective,  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments the  crow  gave  up  the  contest  for  the 
time,  flying  across  the  orchard,  and  making  a 
deep  swoop  down  to  avoid  the  plunge  of  his 
assailant. 

Unfortunately,  like  some  personages  of  mili- 
tary fame,  this  bird  did  not  know  when  he  was 
beaten,  and  every  day  or  two,  through  June, 
hostilities  were  renewed.  On  one  occasion  I 
was  pleased  to  see  a  kingbird  join  the  oriole 
and  assist  in  worrying  the  common  enemy  in 
his  passage  over  the  house.  Several  times,  be- 
fore the  little  ones  became  too  clamorous,  the 
female  oriole  accompanied  him. 

This  bird's  song  consisted  of  four  notes,  and 
it  is  curious  that  although  there  is  a  peculiar, 
rich,  flute-like  quality  by  which  the  oriole  notes 
may  be  recognized,  no  two  sing  alike.  Robins, 
song  sparrows,  and  perhaps  all  other  birds  sing 
differently  from  each  other,  so  far  as  I  have  ob- 
served, but  none  differ  so  greatly —  in  my  opin- 
ion —  as  orioles.  The  four  that  I  have  been 


120  "  UPON   THE    TREE-TOP." 

able  to  study  carefully  enough  to  reduce  their 
song  to  the  musical  scale,  though  all  having  the 
same  compass,  arranged  the  notes  differently  in 
every  case.  The  oriole  is,  of  course,  not  lim- 
ited in  expression  to  his  song.  I  have  spoken 
of  his  cry  of  distress  or  of  war,  which  was  two 
tones  slurred  together.  The  ordinary  call,  as 
he  goes  about  a  tree,  especially  a  fruit-tree  in 
bloom,  seeking  insects  over  and  under  each  leaf 
or  blossom,  is  a  single  note,  loud  and  clear.  If 
a  pair  are  on  the  tree  together,  it  is  the  same, 
but  much  softer. 

An  oriole  that  I  watched  in  the  Catskill 
Mountains  regularly  fed  his  mate  while  she  was 
sitting,  and  as  he  left  the  nest  after  giving  her 
a  morsel,  he  uttered  two  notes  which  sounded 
exactly  like  "  A-dieu,"  adding,  after  a  pause, 
two  more  which  irresistibly  said,  "Dear-y." 
There  was  a  peculiar  mournf  ulness  in  this  bird's 
strain,  as  if  he  implied  "  It 's  a  sad  world ;  a 
world  of  cats  and  crows  and  inquisitive  people, 
and  we  may  never  meet  again."  Perhaps  it 
was  prophetic,  for  disaster  did  overtake  the  lit- 
tle family;  a  high  wind  rocked  the  cradle  — 
which  also  was  on  a  small  maple-tree  —  so  vio- 
lently as  to  throw  out  the  youngsters  before 
they  could  fly.  The  accident  was  remedied  as 
far  as  possible  by  returning  them  to  the  nest, 
but  whether  they  were  injured  by  the  fall  I 
never  learned. 


"UPON   THE   TREE-TOP."  121 

Scolding  is  quite  ready  to  an  oriole's  tongue, 
and  even  squawks  like  a  robin's  are  not  un- 
known. The  female  has  similar  utterances,  but 
in  those  I  have  listened  to  her  song  was  weaker, 
lacked  the  clear-cut  perfection  of  her  mate's, 
and  sounded  like  the  first  efforts  of  a  young 
bird.  In  the  case  of  those  now  under  considera- 
tion, the  female  reproduced  exactly  her  partner's 
notes,  only  in  this  inferior  style,  which  seemed 
rather  unusual.  The  sweetest  sound  the  oriole 
utters  is  a  very  low  one,  to  his  mate  when  near 
her,  or  flying  away  with  her,  or  to  his  nestlings 
before  they  leave  the  home.  It  is  a  tender, 
yearning  call  that  makes  one  feel  like  an  in- 
truder, and  as  if  he  should  beg  pardon  and  re- 
tire. It  is  impossible  to  describe  or  reduce  to 
the  scale,  but  it  is  well  worth  waiting  and  lis- 
tening for. 

What  I  most  desired  to  see,  in  watching  the 
oriole's  nest,  was  the  introduction  of  the  young 
into  the  world,  the  first  steps,  the  first  flight ; 
and  on  the  thirteenth  day  of  the  month  came 
the  first  indication  that  they  were  out  of  the 
shell.  The  male  bird  went  to  the  nest,  leaned 
over,  and  looked  in  with  great  interest,  while 
his  mate  stood  unconcernedly  on  another  twig 
near.  The  next  day  it  became  evident  that 
her  special  duties  were  over,  for  she  spent  no 
more  hours  sitting,  and  her  consort  suddenly 


122  "  UPON  THE   TREE-TOP." 

undertook  the  housekeeping.  She  frequently 
perched  on  another  tree,  and  dressed  her  feath- 
ers a  half-hour  at  a  time ;  and  greatly  she 
needed  to,  poor  soul !  for  a  more  ragged,  neg- 
lected-looking  bird  I  never  saw.  The  feath- 
ers were  quite  off  the  back  of  her  head,  giving 
her  a  curious  outline,  as  though  a  bit  of  her 
neck  had  been  chopped  out,  which  peculiarity 
was  of  use  later,  since  it  enabled  me  to  identify 
her  half  a  mile  from  her  home.  Her  manner  to 
her  mate  at  this  time  said  plainly,  "  I  Ve  done 
my  work,  now  it 's  your  turn,"  and  he  gladly 
accepted  the  charge.  He  was  obviously  tired 
of  idleness  and  waiting,  and  he  devoted  him- 
self with  his  whole  soul  to  his  babies.  Many 
times  a  day  he  ascended  the  winding  stairs  and 
stood  on  the  landing  leaning  over,  head  down 
in  the  nursery  and  tail  standing  straight  up  in 
the  air,  making  him  look  like  a  black  stick  from 
where  I  sat.  For  a  day  or  two  he  took  nearly 
the  whole  charge,  then  she  began  to  help,  and 
before  many  days  both  were  engaged  every  mo- 
ment, the  hardest  working  pair  imaginable,  con- 
stantly seeking  food  and  carrying  it  to  the  little 
ones,  or  putting  the  crowded  house  in  order. 
He  was  as  faithful  and  cheerful  a  drudge  as  the 
mother  herself,  for  which  he  must  have  the 
more  credit,  since  he  nearly  stood  on  his  head 
in  doing  anything  about  the  nest.  It  required, 


"  UPON  THE   TREE-TOP."  123 

indeed,  the  untiring  efforts  of  both  parents  to 
keep  pace  with  the  growth  of  the  family. 

On  the  twenty-second  day  of  the  month,  nine 
days  after  the  sitting  was  abandoned  and  I 
knew  the  young  orioles  to  be  hatched  (though 
of  course  they  may  have  been  out  a  day  or  two 
before),  I  heard  them  peep  softly  when  food 
was  brought,  and  I  redoubled  my  watching  to 
see  them  appear.  On  the  twenty-seventh,  when 
I  went  to  the  veranda  at  eight  o'clock,  I  heard 
a  new  and  strange  cry  in  the  next  lot,  a  pasture 
with  scattering  trees,  and  I  saw  both  orioles 
often  fly  that  way.  It  sounded  like  birds  in 
distress,  and  reminded  me  of  cries  I  once  heard 
from  several  wood  thrushes  when  disturbed  by 
a  cat.  I  hastened  upon  the  scene,  and  was  met 
at  the  entrance  by  a  bluebird  in  a  great  rage. 
I  thought  she  was  in  trouble,  but  upon  following 
the  cries  (in  spite  of  her  protests)  I  came  upon 
a  bird  new  to  me.  It  somewhat  resembled  the 
female  oriole,  being  almost  her  colors,  with  head 
and  wings  a  little  darker.  This  bird  received 
me  with  scolding,  and  was  very  lively  in  run- 
ning over  the  trees,  though  he  did  not  seem  in- 
clined to  fly.  The  calling  was  now  very  near, 
and  while  I  never  saw  him  in  the  act,  I  was 
confident  he  made  at  least  a  part  of  it ;  and  I 
still  think  he  did,  although  I  afterwards  found 
those  whose  natural  cry  it  proved  to  be.  I 


124  "UPON  THE  TREE-TOP." 

think  it  was  a  last  year's  oriole,  not  yet  come 
to  bis  full  plumage.  Possibly  be  was  attracted 
by  tbe  cry  of  tbe  young,  as  we  know  birds 
sometimes  are,  and  it  seems  not  unlikely  tbat 
be  replied  to  them  in  their  own  tones.  How- 
ever tbat  may  be,  I  saw  later  tbe  young  birds 

—  two  of  them  —  and  found  to  my  surprise  that 
they  were  orioles  and  from  our  nest,  for  I  saw 
the  well-marked  mother  feed  them.     Moreover, 
orioles  are  not  so  clannish  as  robins,  nor  so  often 
found  near  each  other.     I  knew  of  another  pair 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  off,  and  once  a  strange  fe- 
male came  upon  a  tree  where  our  little  mother 
was  looking  for  food.     She  received  the  visitor 

—  I  regret  to  say  —  with  a  sharp  "  f  uff  !  "  more 
like  a  cat  than  a  bird,  on  which  the  intruder 
very  properly  left. 

The  baby  orioles  were  dumpy  little  yellowish 
things,  much  like  a  young  chicken  in  color,  and 
the  most  persistent  cry-babies  I  ever  saw  among 
birds.  The  young  robin  generally  sits  on  bis 
branch  motionless,  seldom  opens  his  mouth  for 
a  call,  and  makes  demonstrations  only  when 
food  is  in  sight ;  the  baby  thrush  is  patience 
and  silence  itself,  —  indeed  how  otherwise  could 
be  a  thrush  ?  Even  the  little  blackbird,  though 
restless  and  fussy,  does  not  cry  much  ;  but  those 
oriole  infants  simply  bawled  (there  's  no  other 
word)  every  instant.  The  cry  was  very  pe- 


"  UPON   THE    TREE-TOP."  125 

culiar,  four  or  five  loud  notes  on  an  ascend- 
ing scale,  rapidly  and  constantly  repeated,  like 
"  chr-r-r-r." 

I  should  think  the  parents  of  these  clamorous 
creatures  would  have  been  driven  wild,  and 
they  did  appear  nearly  so ;  almost  every  mo- 
ment one  or  the  other  brought  food  to  the  two 
bawlers,  who  were  on  different  trees  twenty 
feet  apart.  Each  one  sat  stock  still,  like  a  lost 
child  afraid  to  stir,  and  gave  his  whole  mind  to 
the  noise  he  was  making,  and  I  wondered  how 
they  had  raised  courage  to  fly  so  far  from  home. 
I  felt  greatly  chagrined  that  they  had  flown 
without  my  seeing  them,  but  on  returning  to 
my  usual  seat  was  consoled  to  find  the  nest  not 
yet  empty.  The  father  gave  his  almost  undi- 
vided attention  to  the  two  already  out,  but  the 
mother  was  very  busy  at  the  homestead,  and  I 
resolved  that  no  more  should  fly  without  my 
assisting  at  the  operation,  at  least  by  my  pres- 
ence ;  consequently  I  nearly  lived  upon  the  ve- 
randa. All  through  the  next  day,  until  nearly 
eight  o'clock,  those  youngsters  could  be  heard 
crying,  and  on  the  third  day  the  sounds  came 
from  further  off,  and  the  male  oriole  was  rarely 
seen. 

The  twenty-fifth  passed,  and  no  birds  left  the 
nest ;  the  next  day  there  was  a  stir  in  the  ma- 
ple. Early  in  the  morning  a  nestling  scrambled 


126  "  UPON   THE   TREE-TOP." 

up  on  the  edge  of  his  cradle  and  peeped  out 
upon  the  big  world,  while  both  parents  hovered 
about  in  great  excitement.  He  found  it  uncon- 
genial, perhaps,  for,  although  a  brother  oriole 
clambered  up  beside  him  and  stood  shivering 
on  the  brink,  he  hesitated,  turned  toward  the 
warm  riest  and  plunged  in  head-first,  dragging 
the  other  with  him  in  his  fall.  Perhaps  it 
was  because  the  second  came  up,  for  I  noticed 
afterwards  that  two  were  never  out  at  the 
same  time ;  not  until  one  had  flown  did  the 
next  come  up,  and  then  he  followed  at  once. 
Upon  the  sudden  disappearance,  both  parents 
retreated  to  the  apple-tree,  and  one  announced 
the  failure  of  their  hopes  to  the  other  with  a 
scolding  note, —  "gone  back,"  it  said.  But  his 
hour  had  come,  and  before  long  that  young  bird 
made  another  trial :  first  his  fluffy  little  head 
appeared  ;  a  struggle,  a  scramble,  and  he  was 
safely  upon  a  twig  outside.  No  sooner  did  he 
find  himself  in  the  air  than  he  began  the 
"  chr-r-r-r  "  of  the  brothers  who  had  preceded 
him  by  two  days.  The  mother  came,  but  she 
did  not  feed  him,  though  he  was  very  eager. 
She  alighted  upon  a  twig  below  him,  and  he 
fluttered  towards  her,  when  suddenly  she  flew. 
Then  she  returned,  passed  him,  and  attended 
to  the  one  in  the  nest,  and  he  was  disappointed 
again.  For  two  hours,  during  which  he  seldom 


"  UPON  THE  TREE-TOP:''  127 

received  a  morsel,  while  both  parents  coaxed 
him  from  the  next  tree,  he  stretched  his  wings, 
shook  them  out,  plumed  himself,  and  gradually 
grew  accustomed  to  being  out.  They  called ; 
they  flew  about,  around  him,  as  if  to  show  how 
easy  it  was ;  they  uttered  the  low  yearning  cry 
spoken  of  ;  and  above  all,  they  nearly  starved 
him.  "  Come  here,  and  you  shall  eat,"  their 
manner  said;  and  at  last  the  youngling  flut- 
tered away,  in  a  wavering,  uncertain  manner. 
He  reached  the  nearest  tree,  caught  at  a  twig, 
missed  it,  clutched  awkwardly,  beat  the  air,  and 
finally  managed  to  secure  a  hold.  Then  he  at 
once  righted  himself,  shook  himself  out,  —  and 
began  to  cry !  He  was  abundantly  fed  and 
coddled  by  the  delighted  parents,  and  soon  be- 
gan, to  hop  around  on  the  tree  quite  proudly. 

Meanwhile  number  four  had  scrambled  up  to 
the  twig  from  which  flew  every  young  oriole 
that  I  saw.  Even  in  the  cradle,  or  at  least  on 
its  edge,  these  birds  displayed  character.  This 
one  was  quite  different  from  his  predecessor : 
he  looked  about  him  ;  he  did  not  cry  so  much; 
and  when,  after  an  hour's  preparation,  he  flew, 
he  soared  off  in  a  strong  flight,  aiming  for  a 
tree  more  than  twice  as  far  from  home  as  that 
his  brother  had  selected  for  his  first  attempt. 
He  was  a  bold,  self-reliant,  heroic  spirit,  doubt- 
less his  father's  own  son,  who  would  fight 


128  "  UPON  THE  TREE-TOP." 

crows  to  the  end  of  his  days.  But,  alas,  he  had 
miscalculated  his  strength,  and  before  reaching 
his  goal  he  came  fluttering  to  the  ground.  The 
parents  were  at  hand,  but  instantly  became  si- 
lent, apparently  not  knowing  how  to  help  him, 
for  this  was  a  serious  calamity.  It  was  in  an 
open  lane  that  he  had  come  down,  and  at  any 
moment  a  passing  boy  or  dog  might  discover 
him  ;  so,  although  I  should  have  liked  to  see  if 
they  could  do  anything  for  him,  I  did  not  dare 
risk  it.  I  hurried  down,  and  found  him  run- 
ning about  in  the  hot  grass,  wild-eyed  and 
panting,  but  silent.  The  moment  I  came  near 
both  parents  found  their  voices  and  began 
scolding ;  but  after  a  good  look  at  him  I  drew 
down  a  low  branch,  and  put  him  upon  it,  when 
the  orioles  became  quiet,  and  I  left  them.  He 
was  yellowish-drab  on  the  breast  and  ash-col- 
ored on  the  wings,  with  distinct  oriole  mark- 
ings, short  wings,  and  no  tail ;  smaller  in  pro- 
portion to  the  parents  than  a  young  robin,  I 
think. 

Quiet  descended  once  more  upon  the  "  cradle 
in  the  tree-top,"  though  I  saw,  to  my  surprise, 
that  it  still  was  not  empty ;  four  birds  of  that 
size  I  should  think  enough,  and  more  than 
enough,  to  fill  it.  The  father  assumed  the  care 
of  the  two  just  out,  and  the  mother  alone  re- 
mained about  the  home.  The  next  day  passed 


"  UPON   THE  TREE-TOP."  129 

without  departures ;  but  on  the  morning  of  the 
twenty-eighth,  number  five  came  up  to  the  edge. 
This  bird  had  begun  his  loud  calls  before  he 
appeared  —  the  day  before,  in  fact ;  and  when 
he  finally  reached  the  outside  world,  he  flew 
very  soon,  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
He,  too,  started  for  the  distant  tree  that  had 
attracted  number  four,  and  the  anxious  mother, 
remembering,  no  doubt,  the  late  accident,  flew 
close  by  him,  cheering  and  encouraging  all  the 
time  as  she  went.  It  was  beautiful  to  see  her, 
sometimes  over,  sometimes  under  him,  but 
never  a  foot  away,  and  constantly  calling  most 
sweetly.  He  reached  the  tree  in  safety. 

Now  came  in  sight  number  six  —  as  it  proved, 
the  last  of  the  family.  Unfortunately  it  was 
not  a  fair  morning,  and  soon  it  began  to  rain. 
He  crowded  nearer  to  the  tree  stem  and  sat  in 
silence.  It  was  a  cool  reception  from  the 
world ;  I  feared  it  would  be  too  much  for  him. 
The  mother  came  anxiously,  and  now  I  saw 
him  fed.  The  parent  had,  so  far  as  I  could 
see,  nothing  in  her  mouth,  but  she  put  her 
beak  to  his,  then  drew  it  away,  and  returned  it 
again,  four  or  five  times  in  succession,  to  his 
evident  satisfaction.  Most  of  the  time  the 
youngster  was  alone  on  the  tree,  facing  the  wet, 
wet  world  by  himself,  —  occasionally  calling  a 
little.  It  was  so  discouraging  that  I  kept  con- 


130  "  UPON  THE   TREE-TOP." 

stant  watch,  hoping  he  would  wait  for  better 
weather,  and  fearing  his  wet  wings  would  not 
carry  him  even  to  the  next  tree. 

At  about  two  o'clock  it  cleared,  and  after 
much  preening  and  dressing  of  feathers,  num- 
ber six  flew  successfully,  reaching  a  still  differ- 
ent tree.  No  two  of  them  alighted  on  the  same 
tree,  and  no  two  acted,  or  looked,  or  flew  alike. 
Also,  I  noticed  the  six  had  left  the  nest  in 
pairs,  with  forty-eight  hours  between  each  pair. 

All  the  next  day  I  heard  baby  cries  in  the 
adjoining  lot,  as  well  as  in  the  woods  beyond  ; 
but  on  the  third  day  no  sounds  were  to  be 
heard,  no  birds  were  seen,  and  the  nest  in  the 
maple  was  as  completely  deserted  as  if  no  ori- 
oles had  ever  lived  in  the  orchard.  When  the 
little  ones  can  fly,  the  birds  are  at  home  any- 
where ;  any  twig  is  a  perch,  any  field  or  wood 
a  gleaning  ground,  and  any  branch  a  bed.  * 


TRANSIENT  GUESTS  IN  THE  BIRD- 
ROOM. 


"  And  all  the  throng 

That  dwell  in  nests  and  have  the  gift  of  song ; 
Whose  household  words  are  songs  in  many  keys, 
Sweeter  than  instrument  of  man  e'er  caught ; 
Whose  habitations  in  the  tree-tops  even 
Are  half-way  houses  on  the  road  to  heaven/' 

LONGFELLOW. 


IX. 

TRANSIENT  GUESTS  IN  THE  BIRD-ROOM. 


DURING  all  the  years  of  bird-study  in  the 
house,  there  has  been  an  almost  constant  suc- 
cession of  transients  in  the  bird-room.  These 
were  birds  —  or  beasts  —  intended  for  close  ac- 
quaintance, but,  proving  themselves  in  one  way 
or  another  out  of  harmony  with  the  place  or  its 
residents,  were  therefore  banished. 

One  of  the  most  fleeting  of  these  visitors  was 
a  ring-dove.  It  was  very  pretty,  and  it  was 
made  personally  interesting  by  a  history,  being 
the  survivor  of  a  pair  blown  out  to  sea,  and 
alighting  on  a  ship  five  hundred  miles  from  the 
coast  of  Africa ;  but  its  habits  were  unbear- 
able. One  might  have  learned  to  endure  the 
oft  -  repeated  "  Coo-o-o  !  coo  !  coo  !  Coo-o-o  ! 
coo  !  coo !  "  though  it  was  painfully  mournful, 
expressing  only  longing  and  regret.  But  when 
to  that  plaintive  cry  was  added  a  startling  and 
frightful  sound  like  choking  or  strangling,  or,  as 
one  listener  called  it,  a  fiendish  laugh,  the  bird 


134     TRANSIENT   GUESTS  IN    THE  BIRD-ROOM. 

rapidly  lost  favor,  and  he  completed  the  list  of 
his  offences  by  amusing  himself  at  intervals 
through  the  night  by  a  violent  and  loud  flap- 
ping of  his  broad  wings,  lasting  at  least  half 
a  minute  each  time,  and  thoroughly  arousing 
every  one  within  hearing,  bird  or  human.  A 
very  few  nights  ended  his  stay  in  the  room. 

The  next  sentence  of  banishment  went  forth 
against  two  bobolinks,  which,  at  the  end  of  a 
fortnight's  coaxing  and  kindness  were  still  so 
wild  that  they  were  voted  idiots  unworthy  of 
study.  Those  few  days,  however,  were  enough 
to  show  that  the  two  were  utterly  unlike  in  dis- 
position. One  was  an  earthly-minded  person- 
age, caring  for  nothing  but  physical  comforts, 
and  quite  happy  so  long  as  the  food-dish  was 
full,  the  bathing-cup  at  hand,  and  no  human 
being  near.  The  other  bobolink  was  of  finer 
quality.  So  great  was  his  interest  in  his  new 
surroundings  that  he  could  scarcely  spend  time 
to  eat.  Nothing  that  went  on  in  the  room 
or  outside  the  windows  escaped  his  quick  eye, 
and  the  manner  in  which  he  stretched  up  on 
his  long  legs  to  look  at  anything  showed  plainly 
his  grass-frequenting  habits.  His  amazement 
when  the  other  birds  were  flying  about  was 
amusing  to  see. 

Also  the  relation  between  the  two  bobolinks 
was  remarkable.  The  latter  bird  always  took 


TRANSIENT  GUESTS  IN   TEE  BIRD-ROOM.    135 

precedence  in  everything,  assumed  the  best 
place  as  his  right,  and  his  cage-mate  submitted 
as  a  matter  of  course.  Not  only  was  the  most 
desirable  perch,  the  highest  and  nearest  the 
light,  always  occupied  by  the  one,  but  the  other 
bird  never  intruded  even  upon  the  further  end 
of  it,  which  is  quite  an  unusual  degree  of  defer- 
ence in  birds.  He  did  not  seem  to  be  in  the 
least  afraid,  but  simply  to  recognize  that  his 
place  was  that  of  an  inferior.  They  had  come 
from  a  large  cage  full  of  their  kind,  so  wild  and 
frightened  that  I  could  not  believe  the  bird  had 
secured  his  position  by  fighting.  Both  were 
males,  so  it  was  no  question  of  sex.  They  prom- 
ised to  be  an  interesting  study,  excepting  for 
the  one  fact  that  they  would  not  make  acquain- 
tance. From  this  was  inferred  a  low  degree  of 
intelligence  which  made  them  unworthy  a  place 
among  the  several  members  of  the  thrush  fam- 
ily then  occupying  the  room,  and  sentence  fell 
upon  them  accordingly. 

Nor  was  the  next  venture  more  fortunate. 
This  was  a  skylark  which  came  into  the  house 
through  personal  appeal.  Looking  slowly 
through  the  cages  of  a  bird-store,  I  was  sud- 
denly saluted  by  a  faint,  melancholy  cry  from 
this  little  bird,  standing  close  to  the  bars,  and 
looking  steadily  at  me.  There  is  not  a  bird  in 
such  an  establishment  —  unless  it  be  the  scream- 


136     TRANSIENT  GUESTS  IN   THE  BIRD-ROOM. 

ing  parrots,  who  seem  quite  suited  to  their  sur- 
roundings —  but  draws  upon  my  sympathies. 
I  would  gladly  buy  the  whole  stock  and  open 
every  door.  But  when  one  apparently  singles 
me  out,  fearlessly  comes  as  near  as  possible, 
and,  looking  me  straight  in  the  face,  gives  a 
plaintive  cry,  I  am  unable  to  resist.  I  bought 
the  skylark,  though  I  did  not  want  him. 

I  spared  no  pains  to  make  the  stranger  happy. 
I  procured  a  beautiful  sod  of  uncut  fresh  grass, 
of  which  he  at  once  took  possession,  crouching 
or  sitting  low  among  the  stems,  and  looking 
most  bewitching.  He  seemed  contented,  and 
uttered  no  more  that  appealing  cry,  but  he  did 
not  show  much  intelligence.  His  cage  had  a 
broad  base  behind  which  he  delighted  to  hide, 
and  for  hours  as  I  sat  in  the  room  I  could  see 
nothing  of  him,  although  I  would  hear  him  stir- 
ring about.  If  I  rose  from  my  seat  he  was  in- 
stantly on  the  alert,  and  stretched  his  head  up 
to  look  over  at  me.  I  tried  to  get  a  better 
view  of  him  by  hanging  a  small  mirror  at  an 
angle  over  his  cage,  but  he  was  so  much  fright- 
ened by  it  that  I  removed  it. 

When  the  lark's  door  was  opened,  with  the 
cage  on  the  floor,  he  went  out  readily,  but  he 
always  ran  rapidly  around  the  edge  of  the  room 
in  a  crouching  position,  as  if  he  expected  every 
moment  to  be  pounced  upon.  He  was  not 


TRANSIENT   GUESTS  IN  THE  BIRD-ROOM.    137 

afraid  ;  he  ate  from  the  fingers  and  grew  quite 
tame,  but  he  never  seemed  to  know  enough  to 
go  home.  Even  when  evidently  very  hungry 
he  would  stand  before  his  wide-open  door, 
where  one  step  would  take  him  into  his  beloved 
grass  thicket,  and  yet  that  one  step  he  would 
not  take.  When  his  hunger  became  intoler- 
able he  ran  around  the  room,  circled  about  his 
cage,  looking  in,  recognizing  his  food -dishes, 
and  trying  eagerly  to  get  between  the  wires  to 
reach  them ;  yet  when  he  came  before  the  open 
door  he  would  stand  and  gaze,  but  never  go  in. 
He  sometimes  passed  three  or  four  hours  in  this 
senseless  performance,  and  it  was  always  a 
trouble  to  get  him  home.  After  five  months' 
trial,  during  which  he  displayed  no  particular 
intelligence,  and  never  learned  to  enter  his 
cage,  he  passed  out  of  the  bird-room,  but  not 
into  a  store. 

One  habit  in  which  this  bird  indulged  was 
most  attractive.  It  looked  like  a  sort  of  dance. 
With  both  wings  beating  rapidly,  extended 
their  broadest,  he  gave  little  hops,  not  more 
than  two  or  three  inches  from  the  floor,  and  in 
this  way  went  all  around  the  room  when  he 
happened  to  be  out.  If  in  his  cage  when  the 
notion  seized  him,  he  danced  all  around  in  that 
small  space.  I  never  tired  of  watching  this 
most  graceful  and  beautiful  flying  dance. 


138    TRANSIENT  GUESTS  IN   THE   BIRD-ROOM, 

After  several  failures  in  finding  a  bird  to 
my  mind,  I  resolved  upon  a  change,  and  so 
introduced  to  the  study  a  pair  of  marmosets : 
they  were  of  the  smallest  variety,  a  few  inches 
tall,  with  little  round  faces  about  the  size  of  a 
silver  half-dollar ;  and,  having  already  been  in- 
terested in  the  pranks  of  a  pair  in  a  friend's 
house,  I  promised  myself  much  pleasure.  I  did 
not  select  them,  and  while  one  was  everything 
I  could  desire,  having  an  amiable  face  with  a 
full  white  fan  of  hair  on  each  side,  a  long,  per- 
fect tail  and  fur  in  good  condition,  the  other 
had  a  wicked  face,  no  white  fans,  and  only  half 
a  tail.  He  looked  like  a  tramp,  and  he  proved 
himself  to  have  something  of  the  character  we 
associate  with  that  sort  of  personage.  He  was 
extremely  greedy,  and  ate  like  a  thief  who 
never  expected  to  have  another  chance ;  in  a 
word,  he  "gobbled."  He  was  always  first  at 
the  bars  when  food  approached,  and  he  would 
thrust  his  droll  little  hands  out,  pleading  for 
the  first  bite,  and  savagely  pulling  the  hair  of 
his  mate  if  she  happened  to  be  nearest  and  re- 
ceived the  first  piece.  It  was  of  no  use  to  try 
to  administer  justice  by  giving  her  the  prece- 
dence, for  he  fell  upon  her  instantly,  snatch- 
ing the  morsel  away  and  making  her  scream. 
Generally,  therefore,  he  secured  the  first  por- 
tion, a  bit  of  apple  or  thin  slice  of  banana. 


TRANSIENT  GUESTS  IN   THE  BIRD-ROOM.    139 

The  moment  he  grabbed  his  food  he  snatched 
a  hasty  mouthful,  never  taking  his  eyes  off  the 
dispenser  of  supplies,  threw  the  rest  on  the 
floor,  and  thrust  out  the  hand  to  be  filled 
again.  Just  so  long  as  anything  eatable  was 
in  sight  would  he  repeat  the  operation,  and  to 
pick  up  a  bit  that  was  dropped  never  seemed 
to  occur  to  either  of  them.  Both  were  very 
decided  in  their  opinions  of  food ;  neither  would 
touch  rice,  potato  or  bread ;  only  apple  and  ba- 
nana suited  their  delicate  taste,  —  oh  yes  !  and 
meal-worms.  For  the  latter  delicacy  they  were 
absolutely  frantic,  both  pressing  against  the 
wires  and  thrusting  forth  four  droll  little  plead- 
ing hands  to  receive  the  dainty,  which  they  de- 
voured as  a  child  disposes  of  a  stick  of  candy. 

On  one  occasion  a  fisherman  of  the  family 
brought  home  some  of  his  bait,  a  number  of 
sand-worms  of  large  size,  long,  tufted  and  alto- 
gether dreadful  -  looking  creatures,  measuring 
six  inches  or  more.  Since  the  marmosets  bade 
fair  to  cause  a  meal-worm  famine  and  still  re- 
main unsatisfied,  I  resolved  to  offer  them  one 
of  these  delicate  objects,  not  much  thinking 
they  would  accept.  But  I  underrated  their 
ability  ;  they  eagerly  snatched  them  and  pro- 
ceeded to  gobble  them  down  at  once,  as  rapidly 
as  possible,  and  with  evident  relish.  Naturally 
the  more  greedy  of  the  two  quickly  finished  his 


140     TRANSIENT  GUESTS  IN   THE  BIRD-ROOM. 

six  or  eight  inches  of  worm  and  instantly  turned 
upon  the  other,  who  had  not  made  so  great 
progress.  Away  went  the  persecuted  crea- 
ture, screaming,  tearing  around  the  cage  in  the 
most  frantic  way,  and  ever  close  on  her  heels 
her  relentless  tormentor,  bent  upon  snatch- 
ing away  the  sweet  morsel.  He  did  seize  the 
free  end,  but  she  did  not  relax  her  hold  upon 
the  other,  and  thereupon  ensued  a  ridiculous 
struggle, —  a  wild  scramble  through  the  cage, 
sometimes  on  one  side,  and  sometimes  the  other, 
as  the  rightful  owner  or  the  high-handed  rob- 
ber secured  a  momentary  advantage.  The  mat- 
ter was  settled,  of  course,  by  the  separation  of 
the  object  of  dispute,  when  each  of  the  combat- 
ants made  haste  to  dispose  of  his  fragment,  and 
again  thrust  out  his  hands  for  more. 

In  a  few  days,  I  one  morning  quietly  opened 
the  door  of  the  marmosets'  cage.  The  favorite, 
—  the  persecuted  one,  from  whom  I  expected  the 
best  behavior  —  was  first  to  spy  this  change. 
She  was  out  like  a  flash,  and  without  an  in- 
stant's hesitation,  exactly  as  though  she  had 
planned  it  before,  she  made  a  direct  line  for  a 
bird-cage.  All  the  cages  were  high,  and  I  had 
taken  the  precaution  to  close  every  door  before 
I  made  this  experiment.  At  the  first  break  she 
climbed  up  the  leg  of  a  table,  from  there  sprang 
to  the  back  of  a  chair  four  feet  away,  then  gave 


TRANSIENT  GUESTS  IN  THE  BIRD-ROOM.     141 

a  bound  toward  the  cage.  Misled,  —  I  suppose 
by  the  vine-covered  wall  paper,  which  she  tried 
to  clutch,  —  she  did  not  jump  far  enough,  and 
fell  heavily  to  the  floor.  In  a  second,  however, 
she  was  up,  and,  taking  the  same  route,  made  a 
better  spring  from  the  chair-back,  and  landed 
on  the  side  of  the  cage.  The  tenant  —  a  calm 
thrush  —  looked  at  her  fearlessly,  even  draw- 
ing nearer  as  if  to  question  her  right  to  hang 
upon  his  cage. 

But  the  little  monkey  was  savage ;  she  thrust 
a  small  but  cruel  hand  between  the  wires  as  far 
as  she  could  reach,  and  not  much  wisdom  was 
required  to  know  that  she  would  make  short 
work  of  a  bird  if  she  got  her  fingers  upon  it.  I 
tried  to  drive  her  off,  but  she  scrambled  over 
the  other  side  and  eluded  me.  Then  she  sprang 
lightly  several  feet  to  another  cage,  that  of 
a  golden-wing  woodpecker,  who  was  terribly 
frightened  and  beat  himself  against  the  wires 
in  uncontrollable  panic.  This  seemed  to  please 
the  assailant,  who  clung  with  such  desperation 
to  the  cage  that  I  feared  I  should  not  get  her 
away  before  the  bird  had  seriously  injured  him- 
self. She  went  from  one  side  to  the  other  so 
rapidly  that  it  was  impossible  to  catch  her, 
and,  for  a  long  time,  equally  so  to  drive  her 
off. 

Having  succeeded  at  last  in  getting  the  run- 


142     TRANSIENT   GUESTS   IN  THE  BIRD-ROOM. 

away  to  the  floor,  I  Called  in  help,  and,  with 
hastily  snatched  towels  and  shawls  to  impede 
her  movements,  we  finally  captured  her  in  a 
towel  and  returned  her  to  her  quarters,  in 
which  all  this  time  her  mate  sat  quietly,  so 
greatly  interested  in  the  flurry  of  excitement  in 
the  room  that  he  never  discovered  the  open 
door.  This  was  fortunate  for  me,  since  there 
was  not  help  enough  in  the  house  to  catch  two 
so  lively  fellows.  That  escapade  settled  the 
fate  of  the  marmosets ;  as  prisoners  only  could 
they  stay  among  birds,  and  prisoners  I  did  not 
care  for. 

A  beautiful  Mexican  thrush  was  for  some 
little  time  a  resident  in  the  bird-room,  and  I 
must  admit  that  his  beauty  won  him  the  place. 
He  was  dressed  entirely  in  soft  golden  browns, 
dark  on  the  back,  lighter  below,  with  fine  hair 
lines  on  the  chin,  and  bill  of  greenish  olive 
with  lighter  tip.  His  eyes  were  brownish  red, 
inclosed  in  circles  the  color  of  his  breast. 

This  bird  was  a  thrush  in  all  his  manners, 
deliberate  in  movement,  never  in  a  panic,  al- 
ways calm,  whatever  happened,  and  afraid  of 
neither  birds  nor  people.  If  suddenly  startled, 
he  remained  in  exactly  the  attitude  in  which 
he  had  been  surprised,  as  if  instantly  frozen, 
and  thus  he  stood  with  perfect  patience  till 
his  curiosity  was  satisfied.  Sometimes  this  was 


TRANSIENT  GUESTS  IN  THE  BIRD-ROOM.    143 

very  droll,  as  once  when  he  had  just  taken  a 
piece  of  bread  as  big  as  his  head  from  my 
hand  and  was  about  to  beat  it  to  pieces  on  the 
floor.  He  stood  for  some  time  holding  it  up  in 
the  air  with  great  dignity,  his  mouth  stretched 
wide,  and  never  thinking  to  drop  his  burden,  as 
most  birds  would  do.  Not  even  laughing  at 
him  had  the  smallest  effect.  There  he  stood 
till  he  was  ready  to  go  on  with  his  meal. 

The  temper  of  the  Mexican,  however,  was 
very  different  from  our  gentle  thrushes,  whom 
in  manners  he  so  much  resembled.  He  was 
fierce  and  masterful  from  the  beginning,  and  in 
a  room  full  of  peaceable  birds  soon  became  a 
tyrant  and  a  bully.  He  would  be  helped  first, 
or  make  a  great  outcry  about  it,  and  he  would 
have  the  best  when  he  was  out  and  could  help 
himself ;  no  one  should  bathe  if  he  chose  to  do 
so,  and  no  one  —  under  any  circumstances  — 
should  alight  on  his  cage.  All  these  notions  he 
carried  out :  the  habit  of  having  his  own  way 
grew  upon  him,  as  it  does  upon  people,  until  he 
constituted  himself  general  peace-maker,  on  the 
principle  that  "  he  would  have  peace  if  he  had 
to  fight  for  it."  The  slightest  difference  of 
opinion  between  two  birds  would  bring  out  his 
voice  in  a  loud,  authoritative  "  Tut !  tut !  tut !  " 
while  his  chin  feathers  stood  erect,  his  tail  and 
wings  jerked  excitedly,  and  his  whole  plumage 


144     TRANSIENT   GUESTS  IN  THE  BIRD-ROOM. 

rustled  violently.  In  jerking  his  tail  be  alter- 
nately spread  it  like  a  fan,  and  closed  it  up  sud- 
denly, while  his  wings  were  slightly  lifted  from 
his  side  and  brought  down  sharply. 

This  thrush  was  emphatically  a  bird  of  one 
idea ;  if  a  finger  was  pointed  at  him,  he  be- 
came so  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  that 
phenomenon  that  one  could  easily  advance  the 
other  hand  and  seize  him  in  it  before  he  no- 
ticed it.  He  did  not  much  care  if  he  was 
caught,  for  he  feared  people  no  more  than 
birds,  seemed  to  have  no  doubt  of  his  ability 
to  protect  himself,  and  would  bite  with  a  good 
will.  He  could  not  be  driven  from  any  posi- 
tion he  wished  to  retain ;  it  was  often  neces- 
sary to  fairly  push  him  away. 

This  thrush's  encounter  with  the  looking- 
glass  was  of  the  same  fierce  nature  as  all  his 
deeds.  He  began  by  pecking,  and  ended  by 
beating  himself  against  the  figure  in  the  glass, 
fighting  and  snapping  and  scolding  so  violently 
that  he  was  in  danger  of  bodily  injury,  and  the 
glass  was  covered.  He  was  a  blusterer  about 
the  cages  of  other  birds,  and  his  offensive  note 
was  a  sharp  clatter  of  the  bill,  like  a  pair  of 
castanets.  He  always  reminded  me  in  his  man- 
ner of  a  big  boy  who  likes  to  threaten  a  little 
one,  and  frighten  him  with  the  thought  that 
he  is  about  to  annihilate  him.  Exactly  in  that 


TRANSIENT  GUESTS  IN  THE  BIRD-ROOM.    145 

way  this  bird  behaved.  His  encounters  with  a 
lively  mocking-bird  of  not  half  his  strength, 
and  his  final  subjugation  by  force  of  mind 
alone,  are  elsewhere  related. 

A  most  curious  little  drama  and  exhibition 
of  bird-character  occurred  between  two  cana- 
ries, or  rather  three;  and  although  it  did  not 
come  under  my  own  eye,  it  was  reported  to  me 
by  a  careful  observer,  who  did  watch  it  from 
beginning  to  end.  Two  singers  belonging  to 
two  ladies  in  the  same  house  hung  beside  a 
window  in  their  cages  —  one  a  small  affair  of 
gilt,  only  large  enough  for  a  single  bird,  the 
other  much  larger  and  plainer.  The  owner  of 
the  large  cage  thought  it  would  be  nice  to  give 
her  bird  a  mate,  reasoning  as  do  matchmakers 
who  meddle  with  human  affairs  :  "  He  has  a 
large  house,  a  living  secured,  —  let  us  get  him 
a  wife ! "  No  sooner  said  than  done  (in  the 
case  of  the  canary).  Straightway  a  visit  was 
made  to  the  shops,  a  bride  bought,  and  placed  in 
his  cage. 

The  new-comer  was  expected,  of  course,  to 
accept  the  goods  the  gods  provide  and  be 
thankful,  but  she  proved  to  have  opinions  of 
her  own.  She  resented  being  set  off  to  any- 
body ;  she  noted  the  gay  bachelor  across  the 
way ;  possibly  she  observed  his  gorgeous  cage  ; 
at  any  rate,  she  plainly  decided  to  have  a  choice 
10 


146     TRANSIENT  GUESTS  IN  THE  BIRD-ROOM. 

in  the  matter.  She  began  by  a  sweet  call,  so 
loud  that  even  the  human  listeners  understood 
it  was  not  meant  for  her  intended  spouse  in  the 
cage  with  her.  The  bird  appreciated  it  at 
once,  as  was  evident.  He  had  been  charmed 
to  receive  her,  but  that  call  and  the  not  unwill- 
ing answer  from  the  opposite  neighbor  infuri- 
ated him,  and  he  scolded  roundly  in  true, 
stupid,  human  fashion,  reproaching,  instead  of 
trying  to  win.  All  the  more  she  turned  her 
attentions  to  the  gay  vis-d-vis,  who  answered 
her  calls  with  joyous  replies  and  much  fine 
singing. 

Now  began  a  most  curious  exhibition  of  jeal- 
ousy on  the  part  of  the  unfortunate  master  of 
the  large  cage,  which  was  carried  on  for  several 
days.  When  she  took  much  notice  of  the 
stranger  over  the  way,  her  legal  spouse  resented 
it  with  scolding,  blustering,  and  refusing  her  at 
night  a  foothold  on  the  favorite  perch,  even 
pecking  her  if  she  attempted  to  go  upon  it.  If 
she  had  been  tolerably  good  during  the  day,  he 
would  allow  her  to  partake  of  his  perch,  al- 
ways, however,  gently  pushing  her  to  the  end 
farthest  away  from  his  rival,  and  drawing  very 
closely  up  to  her,  between  her  and  the  enemy. 
This  state  of  things  lasted  some  days,  and  no 
human  hand  was  raised  to  settle  the  trouble, 
for  no  one  suspected  the  depths  of  feeling  in 


TRANSIENT  GUESTS  IN   THE  BIRD-ROOM.     147 

those  little  hearts,  nor  dreamed  of  the  tragedy 
which  would  ensue  when  matters  came  to  a 
crisis.  That  time  speedily  arrived,  and  whether 
madam  decided  to  procure  her  own  divorce,  or 
whether  he  went  mad  with  rage  and  jealousy, 
was  not  known.  The  facts  are  that  one  morn- 
ing both  birds  in  the  larger  cage  were  found  in 
a  terrible,  almost  dying  condition,  had  appar- 
ently been  fighting  for  hours,  and  feathers  were 
scattered  all  over  the  carpet,  far  from  the  cage, 
by  the  violence  of  their  contest.  One  did  die, 
—  the  broken-hearted  owner  of  the  cage,  whose 
wooing  had  been  so  sad  a  failure.  The  other 
victim  of  this  "  marriage  of  convenience  "  (may 
we  not  call  it  ?)  never  fully  recovered,  but  lived 
for  some  months,  and,  although  never  caged, 
paid  no  further  attention  to  the  tenant  of  the 
gilded  mansion  over  the  way,  and  lost  her  life 
at  last  by  an  accident. 

I  can  easily  believe  this  little  history  to  be 
true,  because  I  have  watched  more  than  one 
case  in  my  own  study,  where  human  and  bird 
wills  differed  on  this  point.  One  pair  that  re- 
sented human  interference  were  English  gold- 
finches. He  was  a  bachelor  of  most  cheerful 
spirits,  entirely  satisfied  with  life  and  his  sur- 
roundings in  the  bird-colony,  and  she  came  in  a 
stranger.  At  first  he  was  not  very  hospitable, 
received  her  with  a  sort  of  low  hissing  sound, 


148     TRANSIENT   GUESTS  IN  THE  BIRD-ROOM. 

pointing  his  bill  at  her,  with  legs  very  far 
apart,  and  reminding  me  ludicrously  of  one  of 
Du  Maurier's  caricatures,  where  the  husband 
has  on  his  most  "  lord-and-mastery  "  air.  She 
was  not  at  all  in  awe  of  him,  however,  and  an- 
swered him  in  the  same  style. 

Considering  himself  master  in  his  own  house, 
the  goldfinch  insisted  on  his  prerogatives,  first 
helping  of  everything,  and  always  the  best. 
She  did  not  fight  about  it ;  she  seemed  satisfied 
to  accept  what  was  left,  and  to  eat  at  the  sec- 
ond table.  But  as  usual,  he  grew  tyrannical ; 
he  would  not  allow  her  to  eat  out  of  the  seed- 
dish  at  all ;  she  must  be  contented  with  what 
he  scattered.  Even  to  this  she  mutely  sub- 
mitted with  the  air  of  not  caring  enough  about 
it  to  quarrel.  The  trouble  between  them  with 
regard  to  his  singing  is  spoken  of  elsewhere  in 
this  book.  After  the  disagreement  about  his 
musical  abilities,  it  appeared  to  occur  to  the 
heretofore  amiable  little  spouse  that  it  was  time 
for  her  to  rebel ;  he  had  become  unendurable. 
She  therefore  deliberately  announced  her  inten- 
tions by  establishing  herself  in  the  seed-dish, 
and  calmly  but  resolutely  driving  him  away  at 
the  point  of  the  beak.  It  surprised  him,  but 
like  bullies  of  a  larger  size  he  gave  in  upon  the 
first  opposition,  and  it  was  good  for  him.  It 
made  him  modest  and  well-behaved,  and  life 
went  on  more  harmoniously  after  that. 


TRANSIENT  GUESTS  IN  THE  BIRD-ROOM.    149 

Another  thing  the  goldfinch  learned  from  his 
mate,  beside  good  manners,  and  that  was  to 
bathe.  He  had  always  contented  himself  with 
wetting  his  bill  and  passing  it  through  his  plu- 
mage, and  he  was  astonished  when  she  went 
into  the  water  and  splashed.  He  stood  on  the 
edge  of  the  dish,  circling  round  it  in  the  great- 
est excitement.  I  could  not  tell  whether  he 
feared  for  her  safety,  or  grudged  her  having  so 
much  pleasure  out  of  a  thing  he  did  not  appre- 
ciate. Whatever  his  motive,  she  plainly  ad- 
vised him  to  attend  to  his  own  affairs,  and  spat- 
tered as  long  as  she  liked.  Every  day  this 
curious  performance  was  repeated,  till  at  the 
end  of  a  week  he  actually  roused  his  courage 
enough  to  go  in  and  try  it  for  himself.  His 
pride  and  delight  were  droll  to  see.  He  called 
to  me,  sang  little  snatches  of  song  while  in  the 
water,  and  splashed  nearly  every  drop  out  of 
the  dish ;  and  although  his  transports  moder- 
ated after  a  while,  he  has  never  from  that  day, 
which  was  four  years  ago,  neglected  to  take  a 
most  thorough  bath. 

This  couple,  however,  proved  to  be  incom- 
patible ;  every  question  that  arose  had  to  be 
quarreled  over  and  settled  at  the  point  of  the 
bill,  and  for  the  sake  of  peace  the  little  stranger 
was  given  away  into  a  new  home. 


A  RUFFIAN  IN  FEATHERS. 


"  Death,  rude  and  cruel,  intervenes  in  this  book  in  the  full 
current  of  life,  but  as  a  passing  accident  only ;  life  does  not 
the  less  continue/'  —  MICHELET. 


X. 

A  RUFFIAN  IN  FEATHERS. 


WE  all  know  Shakespeare's  opinion  of  the 
"  man  that  hath  no  music  in  himself,"  although 
we  usually  misquote  it.  If  this  be  a  fair  judg- 
ment of  the  human  race,  how  much  more  justly 
may  it  be  said  of  the  bird,  to  whom  we  look 
for  the  sweetest  harmonies  of  nature  ! 

I  do  not  think  his  best  friend  will  claim  that 
the  common  house  sparrow  has  the  soul  of  music 
in  him  ;  certainly  not  if  he  has  ever  been  wak- 
ened in  a  glorious  dawn  by  the  indescribable 
jangle  of  harsh  sounds  which  constitutes  this 
bird's  only  morning  hymn,  at  the  hour  when 
every  bird  in  the  woods,  from  the  noble  singers 
of  the  thrush  family  down  to  the  least  chipping 
sparrow,  is  greeting  the  new  day  in  his  most 
musical  fashion. 

The  matin  song  of  the  house  sparrow,  in 
which  he  indulges  unsparingly,  being  of  similar 
quality,  harmonizes  perfectly  with  the  jarring 
sounds  of  man's  contriving ;  the  clatter  of  iron- 


154  A  RUFFIAN  IN  FEATHERS. 

shod  wheels  over  city  pavements,  the  war- 
whoop  of  the  ferocious  milkman,  the  unearthly 
cries  of  the  venders,  and  above  all  the  junk- 
man's pandemonium  of  "  bells  jangled,  out  of 
tune."  The  harshest  cries  of  our  native  birds, 
if  not  always  musical  in  themselves,  seem  at 
least  to  accord  in  some  way  with  sounds  of  na- 
ture. The  house  sparrow  alone  is  entirely  dis- 
cordant, —  the  one  bird  without  a  pleasing  note, 
whose  very  love-song  is  an  unmusical  squeak. 
Nor  is  his  appearance  more  interesting  than  his 
voice,  and  on  looking  into  his  manners  and  cus- 
toms we  discover  most  unlovely  characteristics. 

One  cannot  help  watching  bird-life,  however 
ignoble,  which  goes  on  within  sight.  Sparrows 
have  long  been  my  neighbors,  and  I  have  ob- 
served many  phases  of  their  life,  —  combats, 
brawls,  forcible  divorce,  and  persecution  of  the 
unfortunate.  A  day  or  two  ago  I  saw  a  mur- 
der "most  foul,"  and  now,  while  indignation 
stirs  my  blood,  I  will  chronicle  the  ruffian's 
monstrous  deeds. 

Near  my  window  is  a  Norway  spruce,  which 
this  spring  I  regretted  to  see  selected  by  a  pair 
of  sparrows  for  one  of  their  clumsy,  straggling 
nests,  to  which  they  brought  rubbish  of  all 
sorts  and  colors,  from  hay  of  the  street  to  car- 
pet ravelings  from  the  spring  house-cleaning, 
till  the  tree  was  greatly  disfigured.  I  do  not 


A   RUFFIAN  IN  FEATHERS.  155 

know  how  many  broods  have  been  raised  there, 
but  early  in  July  I  was  attracted  by  cries  of 
infant  distress,  mingled  with  harsh  parental 
scolding.  On  looking  out  I  saw  great  excite- 
ment in  the  spruce :  the  mother  hopping  about 
with  an  air  of  anxiety ;  the  father  scolding  his 
loudest,  and  making  constant  raids  to  drive 
away  intrusive  neighbors  who  collected  in  the 
next  tree.  An  opera-glass  brought  the  scene 
near,  and  I  saw  at  once  the  cause  of  the  trouble. 
A  nestling  had  entangled  one  foot  in  the  edge 
of  the  -nest,  and  hung  head  downwards,  calling 
loudly  for  help.  The  mother  was  evidently  try- 
ing to  coax  him  to  "make  an  effort,"  while  the 
stern  father  was  uttering  dire  threats  if  he  did 
not  conduct  himself  in  a  more  becoming  man- 
ner. The  poor  sparrowling  struggled  bravely, 
but  every  attempt  ended  in  failure,  and  the  lit- 
tle fluffy  body  drooped  more  wearily  after  each 
trial. 

A  life  is  a  life,  if  it  is  but  a  sparrow's,  and 
so  greatly  were  my  sympathies  aroused  that  I 
would  have  dispatched  human  help  to  the  scene 
of  the  accident ;  but  the  tree  was  tall  and  slen- 
der, and  the  only  available  climber  was  a  young 
gentleman,  who  would  laugh  to  scorn  the  de- 
mand. Nothing  could  be  done  but  watch  the 
movements  of  the  birds. 

The  mother  perched  on  a  lower  branch  and 


156  A  RUFFIAN  IN  FEATHERS. 

stood  quiet,  evidently  aware  that  her  lord  and 
master  would  settle  the  matter.  That  choleric 
individual  made  one  or  two  attempts  to  aid  the 
youngster,  seizing  him  by  his  wide-open  'mouth, 
and  pulling  so  violently  that  I  thought  he  would 
dismember  him.  All  was  of  no  avail.  Neigh- 
bors crowded  nearer ;  the  tree  was  loaded  with 
interested  spectators,  and  the  father  grew  more 
and  more  irritated,  till  at  last  he  seemed  sud- 
denly seized  with  an  irresistible  frenzy.  With 
the  harshest  "  chur-r-r  "  of  which  he  was  capa- 
ble, he  pounced  upon  that  unfortunate  infant, 
seizing  him  by  the  throat,  burying  his  bill  in 
his  breast,  shaking  him  as  a  dog  would  shake  a 
rat,  and  in  less  than  thirty  seconds  dragged  him 
from  his  hold  and  dropped  him  to  the  ground, 

—  a  dead  bird. 

I  was  horrified,  and  so  were  the  other  spec- 
tators. Once  during  the  operation  the  mother 
had  tried  to  interfere,  and  was  told  unmistak- 
ably to  "  mind  her  own  business."  Several 
times  the  male  audience  attempted  to  take  part, 

—  whether  for   or   against   the  victim  I  could 
only  guess,  —  but  were  as  summarily  disposed 
of.     That  little  incarnate  fury  was  the  tyrant 
of  the  moment,  and  worked  bis  own  wicked 
will  to  the  end. 

As  soon  as  the  tragedy  ended  every  bird  dis- 
appeared, and  the  tree  was  completely  deserted, 


A  RUFFIAN  IN  FEATHERS.  157 

as  though  accursed.  The  murderer  alone  did 
not  leave  the  neighborhood,  but  strutted  back 
and  forth,  on  an  elm  which  overlooked  the 
scene  of  his  crime ;  fluttering  his  wings,  calling 
loud  defiance  to  all  the  world,  in  the  greatest 
excitement  for  hours.  Were  there  no  other 
youngsters  in  the  nest?  Were  they  left  to 
starve  ?  And  where  was  the  mother  ?  As  to 
the  first  query,  I  could  not  be  sure.  Once  dur- 
ing the  fray  I  thought  I  saw  something  drop 
from  the  nest,  and  I  was  obliged  to  conclude 
that  if  there  had  been  another  it  had  fallen  vic- 
tim to  a  passing  cat. 

In  an  hour  or  two  the  mother  came  back,  as 
if  to  put  her  house  in  order  and  resume  her 
duties,  but  her  spouse  had  other  designs. 
Whether  he  resented  her  interference  with  his 
lordly  will,  or  whether  the  late  unpleasantness 
was  attributed  to  her  because  of  defective  train- 
ing or  untidy  house-building,  —  whatever  the 
cause,  the  fact  was  patent  that  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  to  divorce  the  partner  of  his  sorrows. 
She  appreciated  his  intention,  as  was  evident 
from  the  cautious  way  in  which  she  approached, 
looking  around  for  him,  and  stealing  to  the 
nest,  as  it  were,  but  was  resolved  to  make  every 
effort  to  induce  in  him  a  better  spirit  and  mol- 
lify his  rage.  She  did  not  seem  greatly  grieved, 
nor  in  the  least  angry.  She  never  opened  her 
mouth  to  answer  back  the  torrent  of  reproaches 


158  A  RUFFIAN  IN  FEATHERS. 

with  which  he  greeted  her,  but  instantly  retired 
before  his  fierce  onslaught.  Not  once  did  that 
fiery  spirit  go  to  the  ground  for  food,  or  lose 
sight  of  his  nest.  Most  of  the  time  he  perched 
on  a  branch  of  the  elm,  where  he  could  over- 
look the  spruce  and  be  ready  for  intruders  ; 
but  occasionally  he  went  by  his  usual  alighting- 
places  to  the  empty  home,  clearing  out  beak- 
fuls  of  small  downy  feathers,  and  apparently 
setting  his  house  in  order. 

But  the  strange  little  bird-drama,  suggestive, 
alas,  of  some  phases  of  human  passion,  was  not 
yet  concluded.  Many  times  during  the  day 
the  divorced  spouse  came  near,  as  if  to  survey 
her  late  home,  and  see  if  her  lord  was  in  a 
more  amiable  mood  ;  but  she  found  him  utterly 
remorseless,  ever  on  guard  to  repel  all  attempts 
to  "  make  up."  When  at  last,  after  the  long 
hours  of  night  had  calmed  his  savage  temper, 
his  mood  did  change,  it  was  not  to  her  that  he 
turned  for  sympathy.  He  would  not  forgive, 
but  he  had  no  notion  of  remaining  a  pining 
widower.  Before  evening  the  next  day  he 
went  a-wooing,  and  there  appeared  upon  the 
spruce-tree,  with  the  evident  purpose  of  exam- 
ining the  home  and  assuming  possession,  a 
dainty  young  bird.  It  had  taken  that  disrepu- 
table sparrow  less  than  thirty-six  hours  to  kill 
his  baby,  divorce  his  wife,  and  woo  and  bring 
home  a  bride ! 


A  RUFFIAN  IN  FEATHERS.  159 

It  may  be  a  matter  of  surprise  that  one  can 
distinguish  between  birds,  but  it  is  not  at  all 
difficult  when  their  habits  are  watched  closely. 
I  knew  the  new  wife  from  the  old  one  in  two 
ways  :  first,  the  old  one,  after  the  labors  of 
bringing  up  a  brood  or  two,  was  worn  and  rag- 
ged, while  the  new-comer  was  fresh  as  a  daisy, 
and  fluffy  and  young-looking  as  a  nestling ; 
second,  she  approached  the  nest  in  a  different 
way.  It  is  true  of  sparrows,  however  it  may 
be  with  other  birds,  that  each  one  has  his  spe- 
cial alighting-places,  —  a  certain  twig  where  he 
first  settles,  and  certain  others  on  which,  as  a 
flight  of  steps,  he  invariably  proceeds  to  his 
nest.  The  mother  of  the  dead  infant  always 
came  to  the  home  from  the  right  side,  and  her 
grim  tyrant  does  so  still,  but  the  bride  selected 
a  convenient  series  of  twigs  on  the  left  side. 

It  is  now  four  or  five  days  since  the  crime 
was  committed,  and,  although  the  new  spouse 
is  perfectly  at  home  and  settled,  peace,  even 
to  the  extent  that  a  sparrow  enjoys  it,  is  still 
a  stranger  to  the  spruce-tree  nest.  I  think  it 
is  haunted  by  the  discarded  mate.  Certainly 
a  sparrow,  that  I  have  no  doubt  is  she,  comes 
to  the  neighborhood,  and  scolds  the  meek-look- 
ing bride  and  her  spouse  in  most  savage  fashion. 
No  one  resents  her  performance,  and  after  a 
moment  she  goes  away. 


A  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  MAPLE-TREE. 


"  Though  ignorant  of  their  language,  it  was  not  difficult  for 
us  to  perceive  that  they  differed  among  themselves."  —  Mi- 

CHELET. 


XL 

A  TRAGEDY  IN   THE  MAPLE-TREE. 


of  my  windows  looks  into  a  large  yard, 
with  trees  so  thick  that  when  the  foliage  is  out 
I  cannot  see  the  street,  from  which  the  roar  of 
vehicles  alone  reminds  me  that  I  am  in  the 
closely-built  city.  The  birds  are  fond  of  this 
pleasant  green  nook,  and  here  I  have  often 
studied  their  ways. 

Early  in  May  of  last  year  I  had  the  good 
fortune  to  see  what  was  to  me  then  a  new 
phase  of  sparrow-life,  — a  domestic  quarrel  end- 
ing in  separation,  and  a  wooing  ending  in  mar- 
riage. The  scene  of  the  drama  was  a  home  es- 
tablished in  a  hole  in  the  trunk  of  a  maple-tree 
twenty  feet  from  my  window.  It  is  where  a 
branch  has  been  taken  off,  and  the  opening  is 
perhaps  three  inches  long  and  two  wide. 

In  the  three  years  I  have  watched  it  I  have 
felt  peculiar  interest  in  that  nest,  from  its  cozy 
situation,  and  have  taken  more  notice  of  the 
little  housekeepers  than  of  any  who  occupy 


164        A    TRAGEDY  IN  THE  MAPLE-TREE. 

rooms  in  the  pagodas,  palaces,  and  balconied 
cottages  nailed  up  in  the  trees  around  us.  In 
the  spring,  house-cleaning  and  new  furnishing 
began,  as  usual,  in  the  most  amicable  way. 
There  was  an  embarrassment  of  riches  in  mate- 
rials, for,  after  the  young  pair  had  collected 
enough  to  fill  half  a  dozen  nests  at  least,  they 
discovered  a  treasure  somewhere  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, and,  throwing  out  that  already  in  use, 
they  labored  industriously  in  bringing  great 
beakfuls  of  white  feathers,  such  as  are  used  in 
pillows,  and  everything  seemed  prosperous  and 
harmonious. 

But  one  morning,  upon  taking  my  usual  seat 
after  breakfast,  I  saw  with  surprise  that  there 
was  trouble  in  the  maple-tree  family.  The 
cock  sat  on  a  twig  outside  the  door,  puffed  out 
like  a  ball,  scolding  and  chattering  in  his  harsh- 
est tones,  while  nothing  was  to  be  seen  of  the 
hen.  Indeed,  for  some  time  I  could  not  tell 
whether  the  quarrel  was  with  her,  or  with  some 
intruder,  for  through  the  whole  affair  which 
followed  she  never  opened  her  mouth  to  answer 
him,  nor  apparently  paid  the  slightest  attention 
to  all  his  blustering. 

It  was  curious  to  watch  him  ;  he  would  bus- 
tle up  to  the  door,  spread  his  tail,  rattle  the 
feathers  of  his  wings,  and  shake  all  over,  as  if 
furious  with  rage  ;  then  he  would  draw  back, 


A  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  MAPLE-TREE.    165 

hop  to  another  branch  which  approached  the 
door  in  a  slanting  direction,  and  beginning  at 
the  upper  end  glide  down  for  perhaps  a  foot 
with  imperceptible  motion  of  his  feet,  quivering 
all  over,  and  constantly  calling  in  a  loud  harsh 
voice,  as  though  daring  or  commanding  her  to 
come  out.  This  had  gone  on  for  a  long  time, 
and  still  she  refused  to  show  her  head,  when  a 
thought  seemed  to  strike  him.  He  flew  away 
as  though  not  intending  to  return,  but  silently 
perched  on  a  twig  half  way  around  the  trunk, 
where  he  could  not  be  seen  from  the  door.  His 
calls  had  ceased,  and  he  was  evidently  hiding, 
ready  to  pounce  upon  her.  This  seemed  not 
quite  to  his  mind,  however,  for  he  could  not  see 
the  door  ;  so  he  took  his  position  on  the  trunk 
itself,  a  little  above  the  nest,  where  the  lost 
branch  had  left  a  protuberance.  Here  he  could 
hold  on,  with  difficulty,  and  here  he  stayed  in 
silence,  looking  earnestly  at  the  door  of  his 
house  till  madam  appeared  and  quietly  hopped 
on  to  a  neighboring  twig,  as  calm  and  unruffled 
as  a  summer  morning.  She  began  to  arrange 
her  feathers  with  utmost  deliberation,  but  at 
the  first  movement  of  her  angry  spouse  she 
darted  into  the  nest  again.  Then  he  stormed 
violently,  paraded  before  the  door  in  his  most 
insulting  manner,  stretched  his  neck,  and  fairly 
made  faces  at  her,  opening  his  mouth,  and  look- 
ing as  though  he  would  devour  her. 


166        A   TRAGEDY  IN  THE  MAPLE-TREE. 

Still  the  little  wife  refused  to  be  bullied  into 
a  fight,  and  after  a  while  the  small  assailant 
was  obliged  to  go  to  the  ground  for  food  to  sus- 
tain the  strength  on  which  his  passion  was 
drawing  so  severely.  As  soon  as  he  was  gone 
she  came  out,  and  after  arranging  her  feathers 
a  moment  coolly  flew  down  for  her  own  break- 
fast. With  opera-glass  in  hand  I  now  watched 
with  deepest  interest.  No  sooner  would  the 
rustle  of  his  wings  be  hesft*d,  returning,  than 
like  a  brown  streak  she  rushed  in  ahead  of  him, 
not  stopping  to  alight  as  usual,  but  dashing  in 
on  the  wing.  At  this  his  anger  was  fearful. 
He  sometimes  alighted  on  the  threshold,  as  if 
to  defy  her,  but  suddenly  his  wings  fluttered, 
and  he  jerked  away,  as  though  she  had  seized 
his  foot.  He  then  returned  to  a  perch,  and  re- 
sumed his  former  proceedings.  These  actions 
were  kept  up  the  whole  day.  I  could  not  watch 
them  every  moment,  but  I  looked  frequently, 
and  always  found  the  contest  proceeding  in  the 
same  way.  At  bed-time  she  was  in  the  nest, 
and  he  went  away. 

The  next  morning  the  struggle  was  still  pro- 
gressing, with  a  difference.  The  hen  had  be- 
come more  bold,  or  more  careless,  and  the  cock 
more  desperate.  She  would  go  out  and  leave 
the  nest,  and  let  him  come  home  and  find  it 
empty.  Now  was  his  chance,  if  he  wished  to 


A   TRAGEDY  IN  THE  MAPLE-TREE.        167 

seize  the  citadel ;  but  that  did  not  seem  to  be 
his  object.  He  stood  on  a  branch  before  the 
door,  stretched  his  neck  to  look  in,  even  some- 
times alighted  on  the  steps,  but  never  once  en- 
tered. He  seemed  to  intend  to  drive  his  mate 
away,  and  prevent  her  from  returning.  To 
this  end,  apparently,  he  seated  himself  so  near 
the  door  that  he  could  not  fail  to  seize  her  if 
she  tried  to  pass  in. 

For  a  time  the  plotter  was  all  attention  :  not 
a  rustle  but  he  heard,  not  a  moving  leaf  but  he 
saw  it,  and  was  on  the  alert.  Now  appeared 
much  cunning  on  the  part  of  that  imperturba- 
ble dame.  Not  a  sign  of  her  could  be  seen,  not 
a  sound  heard  ;  she  might  be  a  mile  away ;  till, 
growing  careless,  he  turned  to  give  his  feathers 
a  peck,  when  instantly,  from  some  hiding-place 
in  the  tree,  she  swept  around  and  into  the  door. 
Then  followed  a  wild  flutter  of  wings,  and  he 
flung  himself  in  transport  of  rage  against  the 
entrance,  but  she  was  safely  within,  and  he  had 
a  wholesome  respect  for  her  ability  to  defend 
herself  in  her  own  nest.  Even  when  he  stood 
in  the  very  doorway,  as  he  did  later,  she  man- 
aged to  surprise  him,  and  dash  in  over  his  head. 

I  wondered  that  the  neighbors  did  not  inter- 
fere, as  sparrow  neighbors  are  apt  to  do ;  and 
once  or  twice  on  this  day  a  bird  did  approach 
the  scene  of  the  trouble,  perching  a  few  feet 


168        A    TRAGEDY  IN   THE  MAPLE-TREE. 

away,  as  if  to  see  what  was  going  on,  but  the 
master  of  the  house  flew  at  him  so  viciously 
that  he  at  once  retired. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  he  began 
to  try  stratagem.  After  a  longer  absence  than 
usual  he  returned  with  a  young-looking  hen, 
who  seated  herself  demurely  in  plain  sight,  a 
foot  or  two  from  the  door.  This  did  not  please 
the  dame ;  she  thrust  her  head  out  for  the  first 
time,  and  gave  the  stranger  a  piece  of  her 
mind  that  caused  her  to  fly  away,  although  the 
irate  husband  "  talked  back  "  to  his  wife  in  the 
most  insulting  way.  Then  he  seated  himself 
before  the  door  and  began  to  call ;  a  loud,  pe- 
culiar cry,  quite  different  from  that  he  had 
been  addressing  to  his  mate.  In  a  few  moments 
two  young  hens  came  near,  and  perched  in 
sight.  Then  he  blustered  before  the  nest,  and 
scolded  more  violently  than  ever,  as  if  to  show 
that  he  was  master  of  his  own  house  ;  but  ex- 
cept putting  her  head  out  and  making  a  few  re- 
marks to  the  visitors,  the  spouse  did  nothing. 

The  next  stratagem  was  amusing.  I  suppose 
the  little  tormentor  thought  his  victim  must  be 
hungry,  for  he  flew  away,  and  returned,  labori- 
ously carrying  a  piece  of  bread  as  big  as  his 
head.  With  this  he  perched  in  his  usual  place, 
and,  instead  of  eating  it  himself,  deliberately 
dropped  it  to  the  ground,  evidently  to  tantalize 


A  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  MAPLE-TREE.         169 

her.  As  plainly  as  though  he  said  it,  he  ex- 
pected her  to  dash  out  after  it ;  but  when  she 
did  not,  he  scorned  to  touch  it,  and  the  neigh- 
bors disposed  of  the  morsel.  Twice  he  tried 
this  manoeuvre,  and  both  times  unsuccess- 
fully. 

While  things  were  at  this  stage,  I  was,  to  my 
great  regret,  obliged  to  be  absent  a  few  hours, 
and  when  I  returned  the  difference  was  nearly 
settled  ;  the  master  was  going  in  and  out  of  the 
nest  freely,  and  the  mistress  was  nowhere  to  be 
seen.  He  seemed  to  be  cleaning  house,  in 
preparation  for  a  new  regime.  He  was  bringing 
out  the  feathers  he  had  so  carefully  carried  in, 
and  scattering  them  to  the  winds.  It  was  curi- 
ous to  see  the  struggle  between  avarice  and  re- 
venge, in  the  longing  looks  he  gave  them  as 
they  fluttered  to  the  ground  ;  sometimes  the 
temptation  was  irresistible,  and  a  feather  that 
was  really  too  nice  was  pursued,  and  returned 
to  the  homestead. 

Twice  during  this  performance  the  hen  came 
back  for  a  moment  and  perched  on  the  end  of 
a  branch  three  feet  from  her  late  residence,  but 
he  flew  at  her  fiercely,  and  she  at  once  left.  It 
did  not  seem  that  she  was  kept  away  by  force, 
but  she  had  the  air  of  thinking  "  the  game  not 
worth  the  candle."  She  appeared  not  the  least 
angry,  nor  even  cast  down,  nor  a  feather  ruf- 


170        A   TRAGEDY  IN  THE  MAPLE-TREE. 

fled,  while  his  plumage  was  in  such  a  state  that 
he  looked  like  a  vagabond,  or  bird  -  tramp. 
When  she  wished  to  depart,  and  her  curiosity 
about  his  doings  was  satisfied,  she  flew  gayly 
away,  descended  to  the  ground,  and  employed 
herself  in  gathering  her  food  with  her  usual 
calmness.  Of  course,  the  only  way  I  could  tell 
her  from  a  thousand  other  sparrows  was  by  his 
treatment  of  her. 

But  now  the  house  was  swept  and  garnished, 
the  victor,  with  unseemly  haste,  devoted  him- 
self to  the  task  of  wooing  a  bride.  He  had  no 
idea  of  keeping  bachelor's  hall,  and  possibly  his 
fancy  for  another  had  been  the  cause  of  the 
trouble.  After  a  short  absence  he  brought 
back  a  gay  young  creature,  brighter  in  color 
and  somewhat  smaller  than  the  discarded  wife. 
It  was  interesting  to  see  his  coaxing,  there  was 
so  much  of  what  we  call  human  nature  in  it. 
He  stood  by  the  door  and  called  her  quite  gen- 
tly, while  she,  daintily  and  with  many  pauses, 
hopped  nearer  and  nearer,  till  just  when  an- 
other hop  or  two  would  have  brought  her  to 
the  door  she  suddenly  flew  away,  and  he  after 
her.  Soon  they  returned,  and  the  same  scene 
was  repeated.  This  time,  may  be,  with  many 
pauses  of  affected  indifference,  and  looks  of  in- 
tense interest  directed  to  some  other  part  of  the 
world,  she  would  get  as  far  as  the  door  of  the 


A  TRAGEDY  IN   THE   MAPLE-TREE.        171 

house,  even  perhaps  look  in  an  instant  before 
she  flew  away  again.  After  a  little  he  went 
into  the  nest  himself  and  called.  She  would 
alight  on  the  step,  hesitate,  then  turn  her  eyes 
to  every  side  of  the  horizon  to  see  that  no  en- 
emy was  in  sight,  and  at  last,  after  getting  as 
far  as  this  several  times  and  flying  away  again, 
she  entered,  when  instantly  he  came  out,  fol- 
lowed by  her  open  bill.  She  had  driven  him 
out  of  his  own  home  !  Evidently,  in  the  spar- 
row family,  the  home  is  the  wife's  castle. 

But  the  suitor  did  not  object.  Apparently 
all  he  wanted  was  to  have  her  assume  command 
of  the  mansion,  for  while  she  examined  her 
proposed  new  home  he  stood  before  the  door, 
swelled,  shook  himself  out,  twisted,  and  bowed 
to  her  in  a  most  grotesque  way,  all  the  time 
calling.  Soon  she  came  out,  and  after  pluming 
herself  a  moment,  flew  off.  Then  the  whole 
scene  was  reenacted,  except  that  after  she  had 
so  far  committed  herself  as  to  enter  the  nest  he 
no  longer  thought  it  necessary  to  follow  her 
when  she  flew  away.  He  stayed  to  guard  the 
door,  and  in  a  short  time  called  her  back.  After 
an  hour  of  this  sort  of  coquetting  the  thing  was 
settled,  and  she  accepted  her  home  and  her 
lover.  He  smoothed  down  his  ruffled  coat, 
they  settled  into  a  most  exemplary  couple,  and 


172        A    TRAGEDY  JN  THE  MAPLE-TREE. 

the  nest  in  the  maple-tree  was  once  more  the 
abode  of  peace  and  quietness. 

The  thing  that  interested  me,  and  that  I  tried 
in  vain  to  find  out,  was,  What  became  of  that 
outraged  little  spouse  turned  out  of  her  home  ? 


TROUBLE  IN  THE  HONEYSUCKLES. 


"  Then  smiling  to  myself  I  said,  — 
How  like  are  men  and  birds  ! " 

WHITTIEB. 


XII. 
TROUBLE  IN  THE  HONEYSUCKLES. 


A  LITTLE  later  in  the  same  year  I  had  the 
rare  opportunity  of  watching  from  beginning  to 
end  another  drama  in  sparrow-life.  The  first 
intimation  I  had  of  trouble  was  loud  and  per- 
sistent chirping,  a  cry  of  distress.  For  some 
time  I  could  not  get  sight  of  the  bird,  but  just 
at  evening,  when  I  was  looking  closely  at  a 
pear-tree  out  of  which  the  sound  came,  a  cock- 
sparrow  flew  out,  alighting  on  the  peak  of  a 
low  roof  in  my  sight,  and  resumed  at  once  the 
very  sound  I  was  in  search  of.  He  was  the 
one  in  trouble,  and  the  reason  was  plain  —  he 
had  lost  a  leg. 

He  stayed  on  the  roof  some  time,  uttering  at 
short  intervals  the  pitiful  cry,  and  at  last,  flying 
to  the  pear-tree  again,  established  himself  in  an 
angle  formed  by  two  twigs  starting  horizontally 
from  the  same  point.  Here  he  settled  himself 
comfortably  after  some  fluttering,  and  here  he 
remained. 


176        TROUBLE  IN  THE   HONEYSUCKLES. 

The  first  thing  in  the  morning,  I  heard  again 
the  sorrowful  cry,  and  hastened  to  the  window 
to  see  how  he  appeared,  and  if  possible  find 
out  where  he  lived.  He  had  left  the  tree  and 
seated  himself  on  the  ledge  over  a  false  window 
plainly  visible  from  my  chair.  The  sill,  the 
upper  ledge  and  the  edge  of  the  roof  overhead 
were  the  scene  of  the  whole  drama  that  fol- 
lowed. From  his  at-home  manner  in  that  spot 
I  concluded  that  he  lived  near,  for  I  have  no- 
ticed that  sparrows  usually  have  a  particular 
place  on  which  to  alight  before  going  into  the 
nest.  They  perch  a  moment,  look  around,  flirt 
the  tail  and  then  dash  into  the  house. 

While  I  watched,  a  hen-sparrow  alighted 
near  the  sufferer,  scolding  harshly,  upon  which 
he  flew  away,  and  she  followed.  He  alighted 
upon  the  pear-tree ;  she  perched  near  him  and 
talked  to  him,  not  in  the  scolding  tone  that 
had  driven  him  away  from  the  ledge,  but  in  a 
remonstrating  or  arguing  way.  He  answered 
her  in  a  low  conversational  chirp,  but  when  she 
drew  nearer  he  again  took  wing. 

This  performance  continued  all  day.  The 
wife  did  not  appear  to  be  angry  or  trying  to 
drive  him  away,  but  neither  did  she  seem  to 
sympathize  with  his  troubles.  It  looked  as  if 
she  was  urging  him  to  do  something,  I  could 
not  make  out  what.  He  kept  almost  entirely  to 


TROUBLE  IN  THE  HONEYSUCKLES.   177 

the  ledge  and  the  sill,  and  now  I  saw  that  they 
lived  in  a  thick  clump  of  honeysuckle  vines 
that  ran  over  a  doorway  not  more  than  three 
feet  from  the  sill  where  he  had  taken  his  posi- 
tion. Once  or  twice  he  entered  the  honey- 
suckles, when  there  ensued  a  great  chattering, 
and  he  came  out. 

It  was  pitiful  to  see  the  poor  little  creature, 
and  hear  his  loud  cry  all  day.  He  lay  flat 
on  his  breast,  his  head  often  drooped,  and  I 
thought  he  was  dying.  Every  little  while  the 
hen  came  to  visit  him,  alighting  near  him,  some- 
times quietly  talking,  sometimes  scolding,  on 
which  he  would  fly  away.  This  day  also  I  saw 
that  the  hen  carried  food  into  the  honeysuckles, 
and  I  concluded  she  had  babies  to  feed,  and  per- 
haps her  remonstrances  with  him  had  been  that 
he  did  not  help.  Evidently  she  had  a  good  deal 
on  her  hands,  hungry  babies  and  a  disabled 
spouse. 

He  was  very  awkward  on  his  one  leg,  could 
not  stand  up  a  moment,  and  when  he  moved 
used  his  wings  violently.  Several  times  he  fell 
off  the  window  sill,  but  caught  himself  by 
means  of  his  wings  and  flew  back.  Much  of 
the  time  he  lay  with  his  bill  open,  and  looked 
so  weak  I  thought  he  could  not  live  another 
day.  But  the  next  morning  a  new  emotion 
came  to  brace  him  up,  inducing  him  to  do  what 
Mrs.  Dombey  failed  in  —  "  make  an  effort." 


178        TROUBLE  IN  THE  HONEYSUCKLES. 

Madam  evidently  made  up  her  mind  to  shake 
off  a  useless  partner,  and  early  in  the  day  a 
rival  appeared  on  the  scene.  The  cock  who 
assumed  this  despicable  rdle  was  a  tumbled-up 
sort  of  a  fellow,  who  looked  as  though  he  needed 
a  wife  to  keep  his  coat  in  order,  and  I  had  my 
doubts  whether  that  little  hen  had  made  a  wise 
choice.  He  alighted  on  the  sill,  One-leg  being 
on  the  ledge  above.  Here  he  planted  himself 
in  a  dogged  way,  in  a  crouching  attitude,  and 
called,  though  not  with  the  least  spirit.  His 
feathers  were  ruffled,  not  bristled  up  in  anger 
or  in  fighting  style ;  and  from  his  whole  appear- 
ance I  could  not  resist  the  conviction  that  he 
was  a  hen-pecked  coward  ordered  to  go  out  and 
fight,  and  dutifully,  but  not  heartily,  obeying. 

The  knowing  bird  on  the  ledge  evidently  de- 
spised him.  He  answered  him  call  for  call, 
and  louder  than  his  challenger,  but  did  not 
deign  to  attack  him  till  the  ragged-looking  fel- 
low attempted  to  enter  the  honeysuckles,  when 
instantly  the  little  hero  flew  furiously  at  him 
and  he  retired.  Then  madam  came  out  and 
scolded  her  spouse,  and  he  returned  to  his  ledge 
to  rest  and  get  his  breath. 

After  a  while  another  candidate  for  her  favor 
arrived  upon  the  sill.  This  was  a  different 
looking  bird,  for  much  alike  as  are  sparrows 
there  are  variations  of  manner  and  looks  readily 


TROUBLE  IN  THE  HONEYSUCKLES.   179 

seen  on  close  examination.  The  second  wooer 
was  as  bright  and  full  of  life  as  one  could  be. 
He  looked  saucily  at  the  unfortunate  he  had 
come  to  cut  out,  bristled  up  and  delivered  his 
call  in  a  loud,  defiant  tone,  and  was  ready  to 
battle  at  once  for  the  home  in  the  honeysuckles. 
This  fellow  too  was  a  more  formidable  foe  in 
the  eyes  of  the  poor  little  cock  on  the  ledge. 
He  did  not  answer  his  challenge ;  he  crouched 
low  against  the  house  ;  his  head  sank,  and  it 
seemed  that  his  last  moments  had  arrived. 

So  perhaps  thought  the  rival,  for  he  flew 
boldly  into  the  vines.  That  roused  the  droop- 
ing hero.  In  defense  of  his  hearthstone  he 
would  rise  almost  from  the  dead.  He  flew  in- 
stantly and  drove  the  intruder  away,  returning 
at  once  to  his  post.  After  a  little,  madam  her- 
self alighted  on  the  sill  with  her  suitor  in  full 
view  of  her  despised  spouse ;  but  he  put  them 
to  rout  like  a  whirlwind. 

On  this  day  he  took  possession  of  a  new 
stand,  on  the  corner  of  the  roof,  where  he  could 
overlook  the  window  and  also  the  honeysuckle 
vines  on  both  sides.  There  he  remained  a  long 
time  calling,  and  driving  away  those  who  pre- 
sumed to  interfere  with  his  domestic  affairs. 
This  was  an  exciting  day  about  the  honey- 
suckles, full  of  challenges,  scoldings,  furious  at- 
tacks and  probably,  too,  suffering,  for  the  little 


180        TROUBLE   IN  THE  HONEYSUCKLES. 

hero  often  seemed  exhausted  and  utterly  un- 
able to  endure  bis  accumulated  calamities. 

Once,  toward  night,  madam  alighted  in  the 
usual  place  with  one  who  was  plainly  a  lover. 
He  began  to  puff  out  his  feathers  and  assume 
the  airs  of  a  wooer,  when  down  from  his  post 
on  the  roof  came  the  avenging  husband  and 
drove  him  away  in  a  twinkling.  The  hen  did 
not  fly,  however,  and  her  spouse  alighted  near 
her.  She  began  to  scold,  but  he  tried  to  make 
love  to  her.  "  Come,"  said  his  manner,  "  let 's 
make  up ;  I  shall  not  always  be  so  helpless  as 
now."  But  every  time  he  tried  to  approach 
her  she  turned  her  bill  toward  him,  talking 
vigorously.  "  You  're  a  good-for-nothing,"  one 
could  almost  hear  her  say;  "you  '11  neither  help 
me  yourself  nor  let  any  one  else,  and  here  I  'm 
nearly  worked  to  death  and  the  babies  like  to 
starve."  Then  he  coaxed  again,  but  she  re- 
fused him  harshly  and  flew  to  the  nest. 

This  curious  scene  took  place  toward  evening, 
but  the  next  morning  things  had  changed.  He 
was  better  and  brighter  everyway,  could  get 
about  much  more  easily  on  his  one  leg,  and  I 
saw  no  more  of  rivals.  He  went  in  and  out  of 
the  honeysuckles  quite  often.  Sometimes  he 
was  greeted  by  a  scolding  and  sometimes  by 
the  shrill  chirping  of  the  little  ones,  but  he 
went  as  often  as  he  chose.  Under  this  new  as- 


TROUBLE  IN  THE  HONEYSUCKLES.    181 

pect  of  things  he  began  to  woo  back  his  mate, 
and  after  a  while  she  came  out  on  the  window 
sill  in  amiable  mood,  and  great  love-making 
went  on.  Evening  closed  on  restored  peace 
and  harmony  in  the  little  household. 

The  next  morning  the  little  hero  was  able 
to  hop  upon  the  greenhouse  roof  for  crumbs, 
standing  up  pertly  on  his  single  leg,  though  his 
movement  was  a  queer  one-sided  sort  of  jerk, 
which  gave  him  a  most  comical  air.  Now  his 
spouse  accompanied  him  to  the  ground  and  the 
pear-tree,  as  do  all  decorous  sparrow  wives,  and 
before  noon  both  devoted  themselves  to  the 
charming  task  of  teaching  the  little  ones  to  fly. 

Often  during  the  day  I  saw  one  little  fussy 
'sparrowling  squatted  on  the  window  sill  which 
had  been  the  scene  of  his  papa's  suffering  and 
pain,  another  on  the  greenhouse  roof,  both 
shrieking  for  food,  for  help,  for  the  world  to 
see  how  bravely  they  got  on,  while  the  busy 
mamma  coaxed  them  in  vain  to  try  another 
flight,  alternately  encouraging  with  a  crumb  or 
reproving  with  a  slight  peck  on  the  head,  and 
the  one-legged  hero  —  his  troubles  now  happily 
at  an  end  —  perched  on  the  edge  of  the  roof, 
peering  over  with  greatest  interest  at  the  pretty 
scene. 


THE  BIRD  OF  THE  STREET. 


"  Dusky  sparrows  in  a  crowd, 
Diving,  darting  northward  free, 
Suddenly  betook  them  all, 
Every  one  to  his  hole  in  the  wall, 
Or  his  niche  in  the  apple-tree." 

EMERSON. 


XIII. 
THE  BIRD  OF  THE  STREET. 


As  I  said,  the  sparrow  is  a  domestic  tyrant, 
brooking  no  opposition.  I  have  never  observed 
a  case  in  which  the  hen  had  her  own  way.  He 
is  so  great  a  bully,  so  self-willed  and  violent, 
that,  whatever  the  cause  of  disagreement,  he 
holds  out  with  dogged  obstinacy  till  he  gets  his 
will.  In  one  case  there  was  difference  of  opin- 
ion as  to  the  site  for  a  nest ;  he  wishing  to  oc- 
cupy an  empty  cottage  of  man's  providing, 
while  she,  with  finer  instinct,  had  decided  upon 
a  charming  crotch  in  an  evergreen  tree.  At 
first  she  opposed  him  strongly,  scattering  the 
material  he  brought,  throwing  the  choicest  bits 
to  the  winds,  while  he  stormed  and  scolded, 
and  —  brought  more.  In  the  intervals  between 
thwarting  his  plans,  she  would  accumulate  ma- 
terials in  the  chosen  tree.  He  scorned  to  touch 
them  ;  he  siinply  ignored  her  designs,  and  pro- 
ceeded with  obstinacy  almost  sublime  to  bring, 
and  bring,  and  bring,  till  she  was  worn  out, 
gave  up,  and  accepted  the  cottage  at  last. 


186  THE  BIRD    OF  THE  STREET. 

The  tree  in  which  took  place  the  murder  al- 
ready narrated  was  the  scene  in  another  sea- 
son of  a  curious  proceeding.  It  seemed  to  be 
the  starting  of  the  young  family  out  in  the 
world  for  themselves  ;  and  whether  it  is  usual 
to  have  so  serious  a  time  over  that  matter  and 
I  have  not  chanced  to  notice  it,  or  whether  the 
family  was  specially  self-willed,  does  not  ap- 
pear. The  facts  are  as  follows.  Attracted  to 
my  window  by  the  ordinary  sparrow  outcry,  I 
saw  a  motherly-looking  hen  sparrow  in  great 
excitement,  blustering,  fluttering  her  wings,  and 
scolding  loudly,  while  four  or  five  sparrowlings, 
completely  feathered  and  able  to  fly,  seemed  to 
be  the  objects  of  her  wrath.  She  rushed  after 
one,  making  the  most  hostile  demonstrations, 
but  when  she  came  so  near  as  to  be  dangerous 
it  simply  hopped  to  another  branch,  not  in  the 
least  concerned.  Turning  her  attention  to  a 
second  she  pursued  it  in  the  same  way,  and  in 
the  same  indifferent  fashion  it  avoided  her,  but 
did  not  appear  alarmed. 

After  long  watching  of  this  sort  of  warfare 
I  concluded  it  was  her  own  brood,  and  that, 
desiring  to  nest  again,  she  was  trying  to  con- 
vince them  that  they  must  seek  a.  residence  for 
themselves.  But  plainly,  also,  the  youngsters, 
accustomed  to  tender  motherly  care,  could  not 
get  into  their  fluffy  brown  heads  that  she  could 


THE  BIRD  OF  TH$  STREET.       187 

possibly  be  serious,  and  really  intend  to  turn 
her  own  babies  out  into  the  cold  world.  They 
were  very  pretty.  I  did  not  know  how  bright 
a  young  sparrow  is  before  it  is  soiled  with 
the  dust  of  the  street.  They  were  beautifully 
marked  in  rich  golden  brown  with  a  light 
shade  of  the  same  color,  the  breast  was  nearly 
white,  the  plumage  soft  and  fresh,  and  the  head 
of  particularly  graceful  shape  and  every  way 
attractive. 

All  the  afternoon  the  sparrow  mother  worked 
at  this  business  of  disposing  of  her  family  cares, 
but  no  sooner  did  she  drive  away  one  of  her 
brood  than  another  returned,  even  trustingly 
following  her  back  when  she  had  chased  it  to 
the  next  tree ;  and  at  evening  I  observed  that 
they  all  calmly  placed  themselves  on  their  na- 
tive spruce  for  the  night. 

All  this  time  the  lord  of  the  nest  had  not  ap- 
peared, but  in  the  morning  he  took  the  field, 
and  it  was  evident,  from  the  spirit  he  showed 
in  his  work,  that  he  intended  to  put  a  speedy 
end  to  the  affair.  His  manner  was  not  exactly 
what  it  usually  is  towards  an  enemy,  though  to 
be  sure  it  would  be  hard  to  proceed  against 
four  in  the  same  way  as  against  one.  He  as- 
sumed his  most  warlike  attitude,  feathers  bris- 
tled up,  wings  trailing,  back  bent  downward 
like  a  bow,  and  tail  pointed  toward  the  sky. 


188       TEE  BIRD  OF  THE  STREET. 

In  this  absurd  style  he  hopped  about  the  tree, 
calling  and  scolding  and  making  noise  enough 
for  half  a  dozen  birds.  Now  and  then  he  made 
a  dive  for  a  little  one  who  came  too  near,  but 
most  of  the  time  he  contented  himself  with 
bluster  and  a  general  state  of  protest  against 
their  impertinence. 

As  for  the  youngsters,  they  were  not  in  the 
least  alarmed  ;  they  hopped  about,  and  ate  and 
squabbled  within  a  foot  of  irate  papa.  If  he 
rushed  at  one,  the  pursued  simply  flew  to  the 
other  side  of  the  tree.  Evidently  his  threats 
were  not  at  all  terrifying.  It  was  most  curious 
to  see,  because  a  moment's  serious  attack  would 
frighten  one  of  those  little  ones  out  of  sight. 
It  was  plainly  evident  that  he  wanted  to  drive 
them  away  (probably  to  make  room  for  an- 
other brood,  since  it  was  early),  yet,  after  all, 
he  was  proud  of  their  pluck  and  spirit,  and  he 
could  not  resist  a  lurking  tenderness  for  them. 

Still,  he  kept  up  the  appearance  of  hostility. 
Now  and  then  he  ran  madly  down  a  branch  as 
though  about  to  annihilate  somebody,  but  no 
one  happening  to  be  there,  no  one  was  hurt. 
When  one  infant  did  fly  before  him,  he  invari- 
ably stretched  his  neck  to  watch  the  flight,  ap- 
parently to  see  if  the  little  one  arrived  safely. 
It  was  most  interesting  to  see  the  struggle  be- 
tween the  fond  parent  and  the  inexorable  judge 
determined  to  drive  them  away. 


THE  BIRD  OF  TEE  STREET.       189 

During  his  efforts,  the  mother  was  watching 
the  progress  of  events  from  a  neighboring  tree. 
Occasionally,  when  one  of  the  babies  alighted 
on  her  side  of  the  evergreen,  she  flew  at  it, 
and  it  changed  position.  It  was  clear  that  the 
youngsters  knew  what  was  expected  of  them, 
but  did  not  choose  to  accept  their  fate. 

Sometimes  the  mother  alighted  on  a  low 
branch,  and  went  up  the  tree  in  a  spiral  course, 
driving  all  the  family  before  her ;  but  when  the 
branches  began  to  be  uncomfortably  small  near 
the  top,  or  they  thought  they  had  gone  high 
enough,  they  coolly  took  wing  and  all  alighted 
below  the  mother,  so  that  she  was  forced  to  be- 
gin at  the  beginning  again. 

In  general  the  young  were  perfectly  silent, 
and  all  the  noise  came  from  the  parents,  but 
once  or  twice  a  baby  cock-sparrow  showed 
some  of  the  spirit  of  his  papa  by  "  answering 
back; "  upon  which  that  personage  fell  upon  the 
saucy  one,  who  vanished  through  the  branches, 
one  hardly  knew  how,  showing  plainly  that  he 
knew  when  an  attack  was  serious. 

At  length,  toward  the  end  of  the  day,  the 
father  of  the  family  perched  on  a  tree  overlook- 
ing the  disputed  homestead  and  began  to  shake 
himself  out  and  put  his  ruffled  plumage  in 
order.  Obviously  he  felt  that  his  labors  were 
over  and  he  could  rest;  and  certainly  not  a 


190       THE  BIRD  OF  THE  STREET. 

youngster  was  in  sight.  But  while  I  looked, 
there  was  a  sudden  flutter  of  wings,  and  four 
little  sparrows  swept  around  the  corner  of  the 
house  and  alighted  in  the  old  tree.  "  Oh  dear ! 
here  they  are  again  !  "  was  plainly  expressed  by 
a  few  harsh  notes,  a  craned  neck,  and  a  dis- 
couraged pause  in  his  operations. 

After  the  second  day  the  little  group  of  four 
was  suddenly  enlarged  to  eight  or  nine,  and 
I  supposed  that  some  other  abandoned  young- 
lings had  joined  the  spruce-tree  babies.  Wher- 
ever they  came  from,  they  were  as  intimate  as 
one  family,  chattering  softly  among  themselves, 
flying  together  in  a  little  flock,  and  all  bent  on 
making  that  particular  tree  their  headquarters. 

For  nine  days  I  watched  this  contest  going 
on,  a  little  less  vigorously  as  the  days  went  by, 
but  never  quite  given  up  on  either  side.  I 
could  not  see  that  nesting  was  begun  again, 
and  I  did  not  notice  another  brood  in  the  tree 
that  season.  I  think  the  parents  were  disheart- 
ened and  made  a  nest  elsewhere.  After  a  few 
days  of  street  life  the  fresh  young  birds  were 
dusty  as  their  parents.  The  neighborly  alli- 
ance still  continued,  and  the  strangers  seemed 
to  adopt  the  cause  of  the  triumphant  babies  as 
their  own. 

Often  the  whole  little  flock  of  eight  or  nine 
alighted  on  the  tree,  crept  to  the  inner  branches 


THE  BIRD  OF  THE  STREET.       191 

where  they  were  not  readily  seen,  and  remained 
perfectly  silent.  Then  in  a  few  moments  the 
old  sparrow,  who  doubtless  saw  the  perform- 
ance, pounced  upon  the  tree  in  a  rage,  when 
suddenly  the  outer  branches  blossomed  with 
young  sparrows  ready  to  take  flight.  Occa- 
sionally a  saucy  youngster  perched  on  a  lower 
branch  and  set  up  an  altogether  "  grown-up " 
call.  Instantly  the  "  old  man  "  came  down 
through  the  branches  in  hot  haste,  exactly  as 
though  he  felt  insulted.  Could  it  be  that  the 
young  rogue  intended  to  "  mock  "  the  papa  ? 

Sometimes,  during  these  exciting  times,  the 
mother  joined  her  family  on  the  next  tree,  and 
talked  with  them  in  low  tone,  without  anger. 
Was  it  remonstrance  for  their  undutiful  be- 
havior, or  good  advice  for  the  future  ? 

A  curious  little  exhibition  of  sparrow  philos- 
ophy, was  given  by  two  of  these  young  ones, 
sitting  side  by  side  on  a  small  branch  which 
sloped  sharply  toward  the  trunk.  The  one 
highest  on  the  branch  naturally  crowded  down 
against  the  other,  and  when  it  became  too  un- 
comfortable the  lower  one,  instead  of  fighting, 
simply  stepped  on  the  back  of  his  brother, 
and  took  the  upper  place  himself.  In  a  few 
moments  the  lower  one  found  himself  crowded, 
and  availed  himself  of  the  same  method  of  re- 
lieving the  discomforts  of  his  position. 


192  THE  BIRD   OF  THE  STREET. 

The  female  sparrow  is  usually  a  modest  lit- 
tle soul,  as  might  be  expected  in  one  always 
"  kept  down,"  and  so  outshrieked  by  her  mate 
that  she  is  rarely  heard.  Next  to  the  tree 
which  the  murderer  considers  his  own  is  an- 
other spruce,  which  for  some  reason  is  very  at- 
tractive to  the  hens,  who  search  among  the  twigs 
and  take  something  in  their  mouths ;  whether 
insect  or  part  of  the  vegetable  growth  I  am  un- 
able to  say  positively.  Whatever  it  may  be,  it 
has  no  interest  for  the  masculine  sparrow. 
There  are  often  as  many  as  a  dozen  females 
there  at  once,  and  I  have  been  delighted  with 
this  opportunity  to  observe  them  apart  from 
their  obstreperous  spouses,  who  are  so  self- 
assertive  that  they  give  their  mates  no  chance  at 
all.  I  find  that  their  voices  are  less  harsh  than 
the  male  tones.  Their  chatter  among  them- 
selves is  quite  soft,  as  is  also  their  "  baby-talk," 
which  I  hear  when  a  mother  has  her  young 
family  out.  The  most  pleasing  sound  I  ever 
noticed  from  one  of  the  house-sparrow  tribe 
was  from  a  solitary  female  on  that  tree.  She 
kept  up  a  continual  soliloquy,  gentle,  almost 
sweet.  It  was  not  a  call ;  simply  a  little  talk 
with  herself. 

One  of  the  most  familiar  habits  of  this  grace- 
less bird  is  his  delight  in  a  mob.  No  sooner 
does  anything  occur  to  disturb  the  even  tenor 


THE  BIRD  OF  THE  STREET.  193 

of  sparrow-life,  whether  a  domestic  skirmish, 
the  first  outing  of  a  young  family,  or  some  dan- 
ger to  a  nest,  than  a  crowd  collects,  not  merely 
as  interested  spectators,  but  quite  ready  and 
willing  to  take  a  hand  in  any  sport  or  crime 
that  is  going ;  not  only  a  hand,  but  a  voice  as 
well.  Loud  cries  always  announce  when  a  rab- 
ble is  at  work.  Whether,  as  declared  by  some 
observers,  they  drive  away  our  native  birds  by 
this  means  I  am  not  sure.  I  have  seen  them 
annoy  the  cat-bird,  the  robin,  and  the  Baltimore 
oriole,  but  in  each  case  they  were  put  to  flight 
by  the  native  bird  ;  though  no  doubt  the  ex- 
perience is  sufficiently  disagreeable  to  induce 
either  of  these  birds  to  select  a  more  retired 
neighborhood  for  nest-building.  I  once  noticed 
the  same  tactics  successfully  applied  to  a  cat 
which  climbed  up  among  the  nests. 

Even  his  courtship  is  carried  on  in  mob 
style.  Little  combats  of  half  a  dozen  or  more 
of  sparrows  on  the  ground  are  a  common  sight 
of  our  city  streets  in  the  spring.  Many  have 
noticed  that  the  belligerents  were  all  males,  and 
their  efforts  directed  against  one  female,  but 
closer  watching  reveals  the  motive  behind  the 
action.  The  noisy,  screaming  crowd  are  not 
her  enemies,  they  are  her  lovers  ;  each  one  de- 
sires her  undivided  attention,  and  attempts  to 
secure  it  in  the  only  way  possible  to  a  rowdy- 

13 


194  THE  BIRD  OF  THE  STREET. 

ish  fellow  like  himself,  —  by  violence  and  rough 
demonstration.  He  struts  about  in  the  absurd 
sparrow  fashion  of  making  love,  and  finding 
that  she  is  not  sufficiently  impressed  he  gives 
her  a  savage  peck,  as  if  to  say,  "  Look  at  me  !  " 
At  the  same  moment  a  suitor  on  the  other  side, 
equally  anxious  to  attract  her  notice,  delivers 
a  similar  rude  reminder  of  his  presence.  This 
being  their  method  of  wooing,  when  several 
birds  set  their  hearts  on  the  same  individual 
she  has  an  exceedingly  tempestuous  time  till 
she  has  made  her  selection,  and  to  a  careless 
observer  it  appears  as  if  they  had  combined  to 
annihilate  her,  instead  of  to  offer  her  the  choice 
of  a  mate. 

An  amusing  instance  in  which  the  birds  were 
worsted  took  place  under  my  eye  last  summer. 
Hearing  the  usual  outcry  one  morning,  I  looked 
out,  and  saw  a  great  crowd  of  sparrows  perched 
on  the  branches  of  a  tall  maple-tree,  shrieking 
at  the  top  of  their  voices,  craning  their  necks, 
and  hopping  ever  nearer  to  one  of  the*  houses  so 
kindly  provided  for  their  use.  It  was  not  one 
of  the  four-story  hotel  arrangements  with  which 
we  disfigure  our  trees,  but  a  single  cottage, 
with  room  for  but  one  couple,  and  it  was  quite 
high  up  in  the  tree.  The  excitement  centred 
around  this  house,  and  for  a  long  time  I  could 
not  see  what  was  the  disturbing  cause.  Close 


THE  BIRD  OF  THE  STREET.  195 

watching  with  a  glass  at  length  revealed  a  small 
reddish  head,  with  very  sharp  eyes,  occupying 
the  doorway  of  the  cottage,  and  after  some  time 
the  owner  of  these  features  calmly  stepped  out 
on  the  veranda  and  showed  himself,  —  a  small 
red  squirrel,  with  a  silver  collar,  which  pro- 
claimed him  an  escaped  pet.  He  looked  thin, 
with  a  tail  almost  as  bare  as  a  rat's.  He  had 
evidently  not  fared  well  in  captivity,  and  I  re- 
joiced in  his  freedom. 

But  the  sparrow  world  had  decided  to  eject 
him  from  the  neighborhood,  and  faithfully,  with 
true  sparrow  doggedness,  they  worked  at  this 
problem.  No  sooner  did  he  appear  than  they 
resumed  their  attack,  flying  around  him,  scream- 
ing and  making  quick  dashes  at  him.  He  was 
somewhat  disconcerted,  and  ran  up  a  long 
branch,  followed  by  the  whole  gang,  which 
grew  more  bold  as  he  apparently  retreated, 
dashing  ever  nearer  as  though  to  peck  him,  but 
never  actually  touching  him.  While  he  was 
running  they  were  very  bold,  but  the  moment 
he  sat  up  and  faced  them  they  drew  off  a  little, 
though  they  never  went  quite  away.  For  sev- 
eral days  not  a  movement  of  his  escaped  their 
notice.  It  was  amusing  to  see  how  quickly  the 
smallest  stir  on  his  part  was  announced  to  the 
world.  "  There  he  is  !  He 's  coming  out !  " 
one  could  easily  understand,  and  every  sparrow 


196       THE  BIRD  OF  THE  STREET. 

within  hearing  responded  by  instantly  deserting 
his  business  or  pleasure,  and  adding  his  pres- 
ence and  cries  to  the  mob. 

But  the  squirrel,  finding  fruit  -  trees  with 
green  apples  and  pears,  resolved  to  stay,  and 
after  a  week  or  two  they  became  so  far  accus- 
tomed to  his  presence  as  to  be  less  alarmed, 
though  they  never  lost  interest  in  him.  His 
eating  especially  seemed  to  divert  and  astonish 
them.  I  have  seen  fifty  birds  at  once  hovering 
around  an  evergreen  tree,  too  small  to  afford 
them  perching-places  far  enough  from  the  en- 
emy, while  he  gathered  and  nibbled  the  small 
cones.  When  he  sat  up  on  a  branch,  holding 
a  green  pear  in  his  tiny  paws,  their  amusement 
knew  no  bounds.  They  sat  around  at  a  safe 
distance,  exchanging  remarks,  in  the  amiable 
manner  of  some  of  the  human  race  at  the  ways 
of  a  foreigner. 

The  squirrel  had  by  this  time  resumed  his 
wild  instincts,  cared  nothing  for  them,  and 
would  even  answer  back  with  a  sharp  little  cry. 
He  had  taken  up  his  summer  residence  in  the 
maple-tree  cottage,  and  all  through  the  fall, 
while  pears  hung  on  the  trees  of  the  neglected 
yard  next  ours5  he  lived  in  clover.  His  tail  be- 
came bushy,  his  coat  grew  sleek,  and  he  looked 
like  a  different  animal.  Still  the  sparrows  at- 
tended his  every  movement,  following  him  like 


THE  BIRD  OF  THE  STREET.       197 

a  train  of  courtiers  wherever  he  went,  though 
they  did  not  make  quite  so  much  noise  about  it 
as  at  first. 

The  household  became  as  keenly  interested 
as  the  birds  in  the  doings  of  the  pretty  fellow. 
All  through  the  winter  he  appeared  on  the 
mild  days,  running  and  bounding  over  the  tall 
maples.  We  saw  him  gather  grass  and  carry 
it  off  in  great  bundles  in  his  mouth  to  make  a 
bed,  and  after  an  unusually  cold  season  he  spent 
part  of  two  days  in  removing  his  residence 
from  an  ornamental  pile  of  stones  in  a  neigh- 
bor's yard  to  warmer  quarters  he  had  discov- 
ered under  the  house.  He  had  evidently  col- 
lected a  quantity  of  stores  of  some  sort.  No 
doubt  as  soon  as  spring  opened  he  would  vary 
his  diet  with  fresh  eggs,  but  as  I  left  the  vicin- 
ity I  did  not  have  opportunity  to  observe 
whether  the  sparrow  family  suffered  from  him, 
though  I  noticed  that  he  had  changed  his 
dwelling  to  the  hole  in  the  maple  already  de- 
scribed as  the  scene  of  a  family  broil. 

I  did,  however,  have  one  mor£  glimpse  of  the 
squirrel  quite  late  in  the  summer,  although  at  a 
distance  of  half  a  mile  from  the  scene  of  the 
above-mentioned  exploits.  Being  one  day  at- 
tracted to  a  window  by  the  familiar  sound  of  a 
sparrow  turmoil,  I  saw  the  birds  of  the  neigh- 
borhood repeating  the  performance  I  had  ob- 


198  THE  BIRD   OF  THE  STREET. 

served  on  the  first  appearance  of  the  little 
beast,  and  a  close  look  revealed  the  presence  of 
the  red-coated  enemy  himself,  as  lively  and 
bright  as  ever.  There  happened  to  be  an  un- 
broken line  of  shade-trees  from  the  spot  in 
which  I  had  first  seen  him  to  that  in  which  he 
now  appeared,  and  he  had  probably  made  the 
entire  trip  without  once  descending  to  the 
ground. 

In  their  usual  pleasing  manner  of  announ- 
cing the  presence  of  a  visitor,  the  sparrows  one 
day  introduced  a  small  owl.  It  was  in  Febru- 
ary, and  most  of  the  trees  were  bare,  but  the 
queer  little  fellow  had  taken  refuge  in  the  close 
branches  of  the  spruce-tree  before  my  windows. 

At  first  I  could  not  discover  the  cause  of  all 
the  disturbance,  fifty  or  sixty  sparrows  hopping 
about  in  one  tree,  and  more  arriving  every 
moment,  all  screaming  at  the  top  of  their 
voices.  A  close  look,  however,  revealed  the 
little  stranger  in  soft  gray  and  white,  about 
eight  inches  high,  —  the  mottled  owl,  I  think, 
—  beautiful  and  fluffy  looking,  drawn  snugly 
back  against  the  trunk.  During  the  remainder 
of  that  day,  and  all  of  the  next,  being  part  of 
the  time  on  that  tree,  and  part  on  a  tall  leafless 
maple  across  the  street,  the  poor  little  wanderer 
was  persecuted  by  the  mobbers,  who  scarcely 
for  a  moment  left  him  in  peace,  though,  as  usual 


THE  BIRD  OF  THE  STREET.       199 

with  them,  they  confined  themselves  to  threats 
and  annoyings,  while  he  kept  still. 

He  did  not  seem  to  mind  their  demonstra- 
tions so  long  as  they  did  not  actually  touch 
him.  Many  times  in  that  thirty-six  hours  I 
looked  at  his  quaint,  wise-looking  little  face,  as 
it  turned  this  way  and  that  to  look  with  inter- 
est at  the  howling  and  shrieking  rabble  about 
him,  undismayed  by  the  confusion,  though  it 
must  have  been  sadly  trying  to  his  peace-loving 
soul.  But  the  next  morning  he  was  gone,  hav- 
ing waited  till  the  noisy  crowd  was  asleep,  and 
then  "  silently  stolen  away." 

Next  to  the  sparrow's  mobbing  propensity  is 
his  impudence.  Not  only  will  he  insist  on 
sharing  the  food  of  chickens  and  domestic  ani- 
mals, but  he  is  a  common  guest  at  the  table  of 
the  great  bald  eagles  in  the  parks,  and  does  not 
disdain  the  crumbs  that  fall  from  the  repast  of 
the  polar  bear,  one  touch  of  whose  paw  would 
flatten  him  like  a  wafer. 

Perhaps  the  most  saucy  thing  reported  of  a 
sparrow  was  witnessed  in  Brooklyn  by  a  well- 
known  artist.  He  was  watching  a  robin  hard  at 
work  on  the  lawn,  gathering  food  for  his  family, 
when  he  noticed  a  sparrow,  who  also  seemed  in- 
terested in  the  operation.  The  sparrow  looked 
on,  evidently  with  growing  excitement,  while 
one  bit  after  another  was  uncovered,  till  at  last 


200  THE  BIRD   OF  THE  STREET. 

a  particularly  large  and  attractive  grub  was 
brought  to  light.  This  was  too  much  for  spar- 
row philosophy.  He  made  one  dash,  snatched 
the  tempting  morsel  from  the  very  bill  of  the 
robin,  and  disappeared  before  the  astounded 
bird  recovered  from  his  surprise. 

With  this  unparalleled  act  of  impertinence 
to  a  bird  big  enough  to  eat  him,  this  true 
chronicle  of  the  most  unattractive  fellow  that 
wears  feathers  shall  close. 


"THESE  ARE  YOUR  BROTHERS." 


"Beloved  of  children,  bards  and  spring, 
O  birds,  your  perfect  virtues  bring,  — 
Your  song,  your  forms,  your  rhythmic  flight, 
Your  manners  for  the  heart's  delight ; 
Nestle  in  hedge,  or  barn,  or  roof, 
Here  weave  your  chamber  weather-proof. 
Forgive  our  harms,  and  condescend 
To  man,  as  to  a  lubber  friend, 
And,  generous,  teach  his  awkward  race 
Courage  and  probity  and  grace  ! " 

EMERSON. 


XIV. 

'THESE  ARE  YOUR  BROTHERS.'9 


A  WELL-KNOWN  French  man  of  letters  wrote 
a  book,  nearly  thirty  years  ago,  with  the  ex- 
press object  to  "  re  veal  the  bird  as  soul,  to  show 
that  it  is  a  person,"  in  the  hope  of  diminishing 
the  enormous  slaughter  for  purposes  of  personal 
adornment,  of  ministering  to  our  appetites,  add- 
ing to  our  collections,  or,  worst  of  all,  gratify- 
ing our  love  of  murder,  pure  and  simple,  by 
whatever  name  we  choose  to  dignify  the  taking 
of  life  for  our  own  amusement.  To  this  noble 
man's  effort  every  lover  of  birds,  for  higher 
uses  than  to  put  in  the  stomach  or  on  the  shelf, 
should  add  his  chronicle,  however  unpretend- 
ing. 

It  is  a  mystery  how  men  with  hearts  tender 
to  suffering  can  be  so  carried  away  by  the  ex- 
citement of  the  hunt  as  to  lose  sight  of  the  ter- 
ror and  pain  of  the  victim.  Many  hunters  have 
confessed  to  a  return  to  their  better  selves  the 
moment  the  chase  was  won.  In  what  does  this 


204     "THESE  ARE  YOUR  BROTHERS." 

short  madness  differ  from  the  sudden  rage 
which  impels  one  to  lift  his  hand  against  the 
life  of  man,  merely  a  (should  be)  nobler  game  ? 
It  seems  even  more  strange  that  a  gentle  wo- 
man can  endure  the  beautiful  plumage  of  a  del- 
icate winged  creature,  whose  sweet  life  of  song 
and  joy  was  rudely  cut  short  by  brutal  men 
that  the  poor  dead  body  might  shine  among  her 
laces.  For  those  who  are  willing  to  gratify 
their  palate  at  the  cost  of  so  much  beauty  and 
music  there  is  nothing  to  be  said,  —  they  can- 
not be  reached.  Not  until  man  has  outgrown 
the  barbarism  of  nourishing  his  body  at  the  ex- 
pense of  his  soul  can  we  hope  to  touch  those 
who  eat  birds.  It  is  sad  enough  to  turn  our 
murderous  weapons  against  the  gentle  ox  that 
trusts  us,  the  innocent  -  faced  sheep,  and  the 
honest-eyed  calf,  but  to  rob  the  world  of  an  in- 
spiring robin  or  a  rollicking  bobolink,  for  the 
small  bits  of  flesh  under  their  feathers,  is  too 
pitiful. 

"  Open  your  eyes  to  the  evidence,"  says 
Michelet.  "  Throw  aside  your  prejudice,  your 
traditional  and  derived  opinions.  Dismiss  your 
pride,  and  acknowledge  a  kindred  in  which  there 
is  nothing  to  make  one  ashamed.  What  are 
these?  They  are  your  brothers." 

The  following  notes  are  based  upon  several 
years'  study  of  birds  enjoying  the  freedom  of  a 


"THESE  ARE  YOUR  BROTHERS."     205 

large  room,  without  attempting  to  tame  them, 
further  than,  by  letting  alone,  to  inspire  confi- 
dence and  dispel  fear. 

The  most  noticeable  thing  about  birds  is 
their  individuality  ;  even  those  of  the  same  fam- 
ily differ  as  greatly  as  children  of  a  household. 
One  goldfinch  that  I  have  studied  is  a  shy, 
timid  little  creature,  utterly  unresponsive  to  its 
human  neighbors,  while  another  is  the  embodi- 
ment of  gayety,  brimming  over  with  good  spir- 
its, and  always  ready  to  answer  a  greeting  with 
a  cheerful  "  Pick-wick."  This  bird  is  extremely 
fond  of  human  society,  and  after  being  without 
it  for  an  hour  or  two  will  pour  out  a  torrent  of 
greetings  in  his  loudest  voice,  wriggling  his 
body  from  side  to  side,  as  though  too  full  of  joy 
to  keep  still.  Even  in  times  of  adversity,  when 
he  is  moulting  (which  he  does  with  difficulty), 
and  his  wings  fail  of  their  office,  so  that  on  set- 
ting out  for  his  favorite  perch,  after  the  bath, 
he  flies  wide  of  the  mark,  beating  the  air  vainly, 
and  at  last  fluttering  to  the  floor,  where  he 
never  willingly  goes,  —  even  then  he  will  has- 
ten to  a  ladder  placed  for  him,  hop  up  round 
after  round,  stopping  now  and  then  to  call  out 
gleefully,  as  if  to  say,  "  I  'm  not  hurt  a  bit ! 
I  'm  all  right  !  "  When  at  last  the  time  comes 
that  he  does  not  try  to  fly,  he  cheerfully  avails 
himself  of  a  series  of  perches  running  around 


206     "THESE  ARE  YOUR  BROTHERS" 

the  room,  and  takes  his  exercise  as  blithely  as 
though  he  had  never  known  wings. 

Next  neighbor  to  the  goldfinch  is  a  cardinal 
grosbeak,  a  fellow  of  different  temperament. 
He  is  a  cynic,  morose  and  crusty.  His  world 
is  hollow  and  his  cage  is  his  castle,  which  he 
declines  to  leave  for  an  instant,  although  the 
door  stands  open  from  morning  till  night. 
Above  all,  he  is  captious  on  the  subject  of  his 
rights,  and  insists  on  having  them  respected. 
To  have  a  bird  perch  near  his  door  is  offensive 
in  the  extreme,  and  alighting  on  his  cage  is  a 
crime  which  stirs  him  to  fury.  He  despises 
his  restless  neighbors,  and  feels  no  need  of  ex- 
ercise himself.  He  sits  — not  stands,  like  most 
birds  —  on  his  chosen  perch  hour  after  hour, 
leaving  it  only  to  eat ;  and  I  think  that  if  his 
food  were  within  reach  of  this  seat  he  would 
not  rise  half  a  dozen  times  a  day.  His  only  rec- 
reation is  music,  in  which  he  indulges  freely ; 
and  his  song  has  a  curious  quality  of  defiance 
in  it,  quite  consistent  with  his  character.  His 
notes  indicate  a  more  gentle  sentiment  only  in 
the  morning,  before  his  cage  is  uncovered  and 
his  churlishness  aroused  by  the  sight  of  asso- 
ciates whom  he  chooses  to  consider  foes.  At 
that  charmed  hour  he  will  favor  his  delighted 
audience  of  one  with  a  sweet  and  tender  strain, 
utterly  unlike  his  performance  at  any  other 


"THESE  ARE  YOUR  BROTHERS."     207 

time.  A  pining  captive  is  an  unwelcome  guest 
in  this  small  bird  colony,  and  the  cardinal  could 
have  his  liberty  at  any  moment.  But  that  is 
not  his  desire.  He  evidently  appreciates  the 
comfort  of  a  cage,  is  satisfied  with  his  bill  of 
fare,  and  has  no  inclination  to  forage  for  him- 
self. The  only  thing  he  wishes  is"  to  be  let 
alone.  His  dream  of  happiness,  if  put  into 
words,  would,  I  think,  resemble  the  ideal  of 
some  of  the  human  family,  —  a  well-appointed 
house,  having  everything  to  please  the  eye  and 
gratify  the  taste  within  and  about  it,  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  wall  unsurmountable  and  impene- 
trable, even  to  the  glances  of  the  world  at  large. 
In  striking  contrast  with  this  uncivil  person- 
age is  a  serene  and  philosophic  character,  pos- 
sessing neither  the  rollicking  spirits  of  the  gold- 
finch nor  the  moodiness  of  the  cardinal.  The 
return  of  the  house-mistress,  after  a  week's  ab- 
sence, elicits  no  manifestations  of  joy  from  this 
bird,  as  it  does  from  all  the  others,  including 
the  cardinal.  Yet,  though  undemonstrative, 
he  is  not  without  emotions.  He  will  follow 
her  all  day,  stand  for  an  hour  within  an  inch 
of  the  rocker  of  her  chair,  and  spend  half  his 
time  on  her  knee,  watching  every  movement, 
taking  occasional  lunches  from  her  fingers,  and 
not  hesitating  to  indulge  in  a  nap  when  he  feels 
so  disposed. 


208     "THESE  ARE  YOUR  BROTHERS." 

The  element  of  mischief,  of  caprice,  and  prac- 
tical joking  is  well  represented  by  a  cat-bird  ; 
or  was,  until  he  grew  unhappy  and  a  window 
was  opened  to  give  him  liberty.  No  more 
tricksy  spirit  ever  dwelt  in  human  frame  :  de- 
lighting in  pranks,  teasing  the  smaller  birds, 
working  confusion  in  desk  drawers  or  sewing- 
baskets,  performing  a  war-dance,  with  appropri- 
ate screams,  on  top  of  the  cardinal's  cage,  and 
exulting  in  his  helpless  frenzy.  This  bird  was 
not  quite  affectionate,  not  absolutely  trustful ; 
he  would  alight  on  my  hand  for  food,  being, 
however,  so  wary  and  alert  that  he  was  as  se- 
cure from  surprise  as  though  he  stood  on  a  tree; 

Easy-going  amiability  is  the  prominent  char- 
acteristic of  another  goldfinch.  He  submitted 
meekly  to  the  tyranny  of  his  cage-mate,  ate 
only  when  he  had  eaten,  bathed  only  when  he 
had  finished,  till,  growing  bold  by  success,  the 
autocrat  waxed  domineering,  when  the  victim 
suddenly  roused  himself,  became  aggressive,  as- 
serted his  right  to  the  conveniences  of  the 
household,  and,  as  in  human  society  under  sim- 
ilar circumstances,  carried  everything  before 
him. 

The  manners  of  "  these  our  brothers  "  are  as 
individual  as  their  tempers.  Nothing  is  more 
impressive  than  the  dignity  of  the  thrush  fam- 
ily ;  no  vulgar  haste  or  fussiness,  no  ignoble 


"THESE  ARE  YOUR  BROTHERS."     209 

panic.  All  is  tranquil  repose,  yet  without  a 
symptom  of  dullness.  A  stranger  may  approach 
a  thrush,  and  he  will  neither  flinch  nor  fidget 
until  the  observer  becomes  intrusive,  when  he 
calmly  and  quietly  slips  away.  Opposed  to 
this  high-bred  manner  is  that  of  the  redwing 
blackbird,  who,  never  still  a  moment,  is  restless 
and  uneasy  to  the  last  degree;  jumping  from 
perch  to  perch,  stretching  one  wing  and  then 
the  other,  jerking  the  tail,  craning  the  neck, 
ever  assuming  new  attitudes,  and  showing  in 
every  movement  his  unquiet  spirit. 

Different  from  each  of  the  above  in  manner 
is  the  cat-bird.  There  is  an  appearance  of 
grave  repose,  but  it  is  superficial ;  it  is  the  re- 
pose of  the  air  before  a  tornado,  of  the  volcano 
before  a  violent  eruption.  He  is  quiet,  —  he 
stands  as  still  as  a  thrush,  and  looks  one  full  in 
the  eye ;  but  he  is  alert  to  the  tips  of  his  toes, 
and  a  slight  but  significant  jerk  of  the  tail 
shows  that  he  is  wide  awake  and  prepared  for 
instant  movement.  Let  him  suspect  one's  in- 
tention to  be  hostile,  and  he  will  flash  out  of 
sight ;  not  silently,  like  the  thrush,  but  with 
harsh  screams  that  fairly  startle  one  with  their 
violence. 

To  find  rude,  blustering,  self-assertive  man- 
ners we  need  go  no  farther  than  our  city  streets, 
which  the  house-sparrow  has  made  his  own. 


210     "  THESE  ARE  YOUR  BROTHERS." 

For  cool  impudence  and  offensive  intrusion 
upon  the  rights  of  humanity  about  him  this 
bird  has  no  equal.  He  is  a  genuine  gamin, 
and  shows  the  effect  of  life  in  the  streets  even 
on  a  bird. 

Birds  not  only  cough  and  sneeze,  but  they 
dream  and  snore,  making  most  distressing 
sounds,  as  if  strangling.  They  hiccough  —  a 
very  droll  affair  it  is,  too,  —  and  they  faint 
away.  A  goldfinch,  spoken  of  above,  being 
frightened  one  night,  in  his  struggles  was 
caught  between  the  wires,  and  gave  a  cry  like 
the  squeak  of  a  mouse  in  distress.  On  my  has- 
tening to  his  release,  he  slipped  out  into  the 
room,  and  flew  wildly  about  till  he  hit  some- 
thing and  fell  to  the  floor.  He  was  picked  up, 
and  his  fright  culminated  in  a  dead  faint.  The 
little  head  drooped,  the  body  was  limp,  appar- 
ently perfectly  lifeless,  and  he  was  laid  in  his 
cage,  ready  to  be  buried  in  the  morning.  He 
was  placed  carefully  on  the  breast,  however, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  he  hopped  upon  his  perch, 
shook  out  his  ruffled  feathers,  and  composed 
himself  to  sleep. 

One  feat  sometimes  ascribed  to  man  is  in  the 
case  of  birds  a  literal  fact,  —  they  can  sleep 
with  one  eye  open.  This  curious  habit  I  have 
watched  closely,  and  I  find  it  common  in  nearly 
all  the  varieties  I  have  been  able  to  observe. 


"THESE  ARE    YOUR  BROTHERS."  211 

One  eye  will  close  sleepily,  shut  tight,  and  ap- 
pear to  enjoy  a  good  nap,  while  the  other  is 
wide  awake  as  ever.  It  is  not  always  the  eye 
towards  the  light  that  sleeps,  nor  is  it  invaria- 
bly the  one  from  the  light.  The  presence  or 
absence  of  people  makes  no  difference.  I  have 
even  had  a  bird  stand  on  my  arm  or  knee,  draw 
up  one  leg,  and  seem  to  sleep  soundly  with  one 
eye,  while  the  other  was  wide  open.  In  sev- 
eral years'  close  attention  I  have  been  unable  to 
find  any  cause,  either  in  the  position  or  the 
surroundings,  for  this  strange  habit. 

No  "  set  old  woman  "  is  more  wedded  to  her 
accustomed  uways"  than  are  birds  in  general 
to  theirs.  Their  hours  for  eating,  napping,  and 
singing  are  as  regular  as  ours.  So,  likewise,  are 
their  habits  in  regard  to  alighting  places,  even 
to  the  very  twig  they  select.  After  a  week's 
acquaintance  with  the  habits  of  a  bird,  I  can 
always  tell  when  something  disturbing  has  oc- 
curred, by  the  place  in  which  he  is  found.  One 
bird  will  make  the  desk  his  favorite  haunt,  and 
freely  visit  tables,  the  rounds  of  chairs,  and 
the  floor,  while  another  confines  himself  to  the 
backs  of  chairs,  the  tops  of  cages  and  picture- 
frames.  One  hermit  thrush  frequented  the 
bureau,  the  looking-glass  frame,  and  the  top  of 
a  cardboard  map  which  had  warped  around  till 
the  upper  edge  was  almost  circular.  On  this 


212     "THESE  ARE  YOUR  BROTHERS." 

edge  he  would  perch  for  Jiours,  and  twitter  and 
call,  but  no  other  bird  ever  approached  it. 
Still  another  always  selected  the  door  casing 
and  window  cornices. 

Every  bird  has  his  chosen  place  for  the 
night,  usually  the  highest  perch  on  the  darkest 
side  of  the  cage.  They  soon  become  accus- 
tomed to  the  situation  of  the  dishes  in  their 
cages,  and  plainly  resent  any  change.  On  my 
placing  a  drinking-cup  in  a  new  part  of  the  car- 
dinal's residence,  he  came  down  at  once,  scold- 
ing violently,  pretended  to  drink,  then  looked 
over  to  the  corner  where  the  water  used  to  be, 
and  renewed  his  protestations.  Then  he  re- 
turned to  the  upper  perch,  flirting  his  tail,  and 
expressing  his  mind  with  great  vigor.  A  few 
minutes  passed,  and  he  repeated  the  perform- 
ance, keeping  it  up  with  great  excitement 
until,  to  pacify  him,  I  replaced  the  cup.  He  at 
once  retired  to  his  usual  seat,  smoothed  his 
roughened  plumage,  and  in  a  few  moments 
began  to  sing.  A  dress  of  new  color  on  their 
mistress  makes  great  commotion  among  these 
close  observers,  and  the  moving  about  of  furni- 
ture puts  the  tamest  one  in  a  panic. 

"  Besides  song,"  says  Michelet,  "  the  bird 
has  many  other  languages.  Like  men,  he  prat- 
tles, recites,  and  converses."  The  subject  of 
birds'  language  is  one  of  great  interest,  and  I 


"THESE  ARE  YOUR  BROTHERS."     213 

have  studied  it  very  closely.  I  notice  that  all 
the  birds  understand  certain  sounds  made  by 
any  one  of  them,  even  by  sparrows  outside,  — 
a  cry  of  distress,  any  excitement,  calls  for  food, 
and  especially  an  expression  of  dislike  for  an- 
other's song ;  but  I  have  never  seen  any  ap- 
pearance of  talk  except  between  those  of  the 
same  family.  Two  goldfinches  keep  up  a  con- 
tinual chatter,  with  distinctly  different  tones 
for  different  occasions,  as  when  a  fly  alights  on 
the  window  near  them,  or  a  neighboring  bird 
makes  any  uncommon  movement.  They  never 
talk  at  the  same  time,  although  they  often  sing 
together,  and  one  is  much  more  talkative  than 
the  other.  Sometimes  their  notes  are  low  and 
their  manner  indifferent,  as  if  the  talk  were 
mere  desultory  chat ;  but  if  anything  occurs  of 
interest  in  their  small  world  the  tones  become 
animated,  and  in  times  of  excitement  their 
voices  are  raised  almost  to  shrieks.  After  a 
quarrel,  moreover,  there  is  no  more  exchange 
of  opinion  for  a  long  time.  Further  than  this, 
I  have  experimented  by  taking  one  from  the 
room,  when  invariably  all  talk  ceased.  I  have 
never  known  one  to  make  the  peculiar  sounds  I 
have  called  "  talk  "  when  the  other  was  not  in 
the  room.  Robins  notoriously  talk  together, 
and  when  one  intrudes  upon  their  neighbor- 
hood he  can  almost  translate  into  English  their 


214  "THESE  ARE    YOUR  BROTHERS." 

low  words  of  warning  and  caution,  and  their 
observations  upon  his  movements.  Who  that 
has  ever  lain  on  his  back  in  the  hay,  and 
watched  the  barn  swallows  as  they  come  to 
their  nest  and  perch  on  the  great  beam  to  dress 
their  feathers  and  perhaps  give  their  quaint  lit- 
tle song  before  setting  out  again,  but  is  con- 
vinced that  they  are  great  chatterers  !  Indeed, 
one  can  hear  them,  as  they  fly  through  the  air, 
not  only  calling  to  each  other,  but  exchanging 
remarks,  which  is  quite  different. 

To  one  who  has  watched  birds  it  is  plain  that 
they  are  fond  of  play.  A  bit  of  string  will 
often  amuse  one  for  a  long  time  :  he  will  jump 
sideways  and  drag  it  about  in  a  very  droll  way, 
beat  it  on  the  floor,  fly  away  with  it,  and  in 
other  ways  enjoy  it.  A  marble,  or  anything 
that  rolls,  will  sometimes  answer  the  same  pur- 
pose. A  mocking-bird  delighted  in  a  grass 
stalk  with  the  seeds  on.  He  would  grasp  it  in 
the  middle,  hop  all  about  his  cage,  lay  it  care- 
fully down  in  one  place,  leave  it,  and  then  re- 
turn and  take  it  up  again.  He  would  entertain 
himself  a  half  hour  at  a  time  in  this  manner. 
A  cat-bird  was  particularly  pleased  with  a 
handkerchief.  If  one  fell  to  the  floor  he  was 
after  it  in  an  instant,  jerking  it  over  the  carpet 
and  enjoying  himself  greatly.  Another  bird 
made  himself  happy  by  swinging  on  a  spring 


"THESE  ARE    YOUR  BROTHERS."  215 

perch,  jumping  back  and  forth,  and  seeming  to 
like  the  motion.  The  desire  for  amusement  is 
also  shown  by  a  habit  of  throwing  things  down 
to  see  them  drop.  Several  birds  have  liked  to 
throw  pins  from  the  cushion,  and  look  over  to 
observe  the  fall;  and  a  cat-bird  never  came 
near  a  spool  without  pushing  it  over,  rolling  it 
to  the  edge  of  desk  or  table,  and  noticing  the 
result  with  interest.  This  is  true  not  only  of 
birds  in  a  house,  which  may  be  supposed  spe- 
cially in  need  of  something  to  pass  away  the 
hours,  but  I  have  seen  sparrows  amuse  them- 
selves in  the  same  way,  throwing  small  objects 
—  leaf  stems,  I  think — from  a  roof,  and  look- 
ing over  to  see  them  flutter  to  the  ground. 

One  bird  diverted  himself  after  the  manner 
of  a  "  sportsman  "  hunting  a  fox,  by  chasing 
smaller  birds  from  one  side  of  a  room  to  the 
other,  and  the  more  frightened  he  could  make 
them  the  more  he  exulted  in  the  "  sport."  He 
would  also  run  the  length  of  a  cornice  in  a 
panic-stricken  way,  as  though  suddenly  gone 
mad,  stop  short  at  the  last  inch,  turn  instantly, 
and  repeat  the  performance,  and  he  would  keep 
it  up  for  an  hour.  The  fun  of  another,  a  gold- 
finch, consisted  in  turning  "  back-summersets." 
He  would  hang,  head  downward,  from  the  roof 
of  his  cage,  walk  about  in  that  position,  using 
his  bill  to  help,  like  a  parrot,  and  at  last  give  a 


216  "THESE  ARE    YOUR  BROTHERS." 

backward  spring,  turn  completely  over,  and 
land  on  the  floor  of  the  cage.  His  cage-mate 
did  not  approve  of  this  sort  of  frolic,  and  after 
mildly  expressing  his  opinion  once  or  twice  he 
put  an  end  to  the  gymnastics  by  a  sharp  re- 
proof, accompanied  by  a  twitch  of  one  of  the 
offender's  feathers. 

Most  birds  take  deep  interest  in  things  going 
on  about  them,  as  any  one  who  has  watched 
them,  wild  or  tame,  must  know.  I  have  seen  a 
swallow  hover  like  a  great  humming-bird  be- 
fore a  stranger,  to  satisfy  his  curiosity  regard- 
ing him.  Nothing  shows  difference  of  character 
more  plainly  than  the  various  ways  of  gratify- 
ing curiosity.  One  is  very  cautious,  and  circles 
around  a  new  object  a  long  time  before  touch- 
ing it,  while  another  flies  directly  to  the  spot, 
and  pounces  upon  it  or  tries  it  with  the  bill  at 
once.  Many  birds  are  fond  of  looking  at 
things  outside  the  window,  carriages,  people, 
sparrows  flying  about,  and  falling  snow  or  rain, 
while  the  appearance  of  a  boy's  kite  in  the  air 
never  fails  to  put  the  whole  roomful  in  a  fright. 

Especially  are  birds  interested  in  others  of 
their  kind,  and  they  are  generally  ready  to  help 
with  their  presence  and  advice,  if  nothing  else. 
A  cry  of  distress  will  bring  sympathizers  from 
every  quarter,  and  during  several  sparrow  broils 
I  have  noticed,  there  has  always  been  an  audi- 


"THESE  ARE  YOUR  BROTHERS."     217 

ence,  all  talking, — giving  advice,  no  doubt, — 
and  many  ready  to  take  a  hand  in  any  sort  of 
scrimmage.  Robins,  too,  rush  in  crowds  to  the 
assistance  of  their  neighbors. 

Birds  show  a  love  of  teasing  in  several  ways, 
the  most  common  being  to  display  contempt  for 
another's  song.  One  of  my  goldfinches  will  as- 
sume the  most  indifferent  air  when  the  other 
begins  to  sing ;  moving  to  the  farther  end  of 
the  long  perch,  puffing  himself  out,  and  osten- 
tatiously getting  ready  for  a  nap.  The  singer 
never  fails  to  notice  the  offense  at  once,  and  fol- 
low up  his  tormentor,  singing  somewhat  louder, 
till  the  naughty  fellow  deliberately  puts  his 
head  under  his  feathers  as  if  to  sleep,  when  the 
voice  rises  to  a  positive  shriek,  and  the  offended 
bird  stretches  himself  up  tall,  and  towers  above 
his  sleepy  comrade  as  though  he  would  devour 
him. 

The  coolest  insult  I  ever  saw  is  often  paid  by 
a  goldfinch  to  a  cardinal  as  big  as  half  a  dozen 
of  himself.  He  insisted  upon  alighting  upon 
the  cardinal's  cage  to  shake  himself  after  bath- 
ing, and,  in  spite  of  hard  words  from  the  owner, 
kept  up  the  custom  until  sundry  nips  of  his  toes 
convinced  the  saucy  goldfinch  that  it  was  not 
a  good  place  to  dry  himself.  Since  then  he 
perches  close  to  the  door  of  his  crusty  neighbor 
to  sing,  edging  as  near  as  he  can,  and  singing 


218     "THESE  ARE  YOUR  BROTHERS." 

his  loudest.  The  cardinal  expresses  disapproval 
by  sharp  "  Tsip's  "  and  other  sounds,  but  when 
he  becomes  too  enraged  to  contain  himself  he 
sings  !  It  is  certainly  a  strange  way  of  show- 
ing anger.  He  puffs  out  his  feathers,  holds  his 
quivering  wings  a  little  away  from  his  sides, 
erects  his  crest,  and  sways  his  body  like  a  Chi- 
nese mandarin  in  the  tea-shops,  only  from  side 
to  side,  singing  all  the  time  at  the  top  of  his 
voice. 

The  goldfinch  understands  the  meaning  of 
this  demonstration,  and  it  really  seems  to  awe 
him,  for  as  long  as  the  cardinal  continues  it  he 
stands  meek  and  silent.  Although  fearing  it 
would  be  useless,  I  on  one  occasion  fastened 
open  the  door  of  the  angry  bird's  cage,  to  put 
him  on  more  equal  terms  with  his  small  foe. 
But  so  far  from  helping  matters,  the  goldfinch 
became  more  saucy  than  before,  even  venturing 
into  the  enemy's  cage  for  hemp-seed  which  he 
spied  upon  the  floor.  The  cardinal  hurried 
down  when  he  saw  this ;  but  the  smaller  bird 
was  so  quick  in  his  movements  that  he  could  go 
in,  snatch  a  seed,  and  be  out  before  his  clumsy 
adversary  reached  him.  Once  outside,  where  he 
knew  perfectly  well  he  would  not  be  followed 
by  the  irate  proprietor,  the  small  rogue  stood 
on  a  perch  not  two  inches  from  the  open  door, 
calmly  cracked  and  ate  his  seed,  and  then 


"THESE  ARE  YOUR  BROTHERS:1     219 

waited  for  another  chance  to  make  a  raid  upon 
the  coveted  stores. 

No  one  who  has  kept  several  birds  needs  to 
be  told  of  their  jealousy.  In  spite  of  infinite 
pains  and  redoubled  attentions  to  the  older  resi- 
dent, I  have  been  pained  to  see  the  feeling  to- 
wards a  new-comer  cause  unhappiness,  even 
misery,  and  in  one  case  a  permanent  souring 
of  temper. 

It  is  curious  to  see  a  bird  show  rage.  Be- 
sides the  singing  already  spoken  of,  the  cardinal 
sometimes  displays  it  in  another  way.  He  will 
perch  as  near  as  possible  to  the  wires  which 
separate  him  from  the  goldfinch ;  raise  the 
feathers  of  his  neck  all  around,  till  they  look 
like  a  ruff;  lean  his  head  far  over  one  side, 
with  crest  down,  eyes  fixed  on  the  enemy,  and 
one  wing  quivering.  This  attitude  of  speech- 
less wrath  seems  to  impress  the  goldfinch  for  a 
moment,  but  at  last  he  takes  courage  and  be- 
gins to  sing,  low  at  first,  but  gradually  louder, 
till  almost  shrieking,  while  his  own  wings  droop 
and  quiver,  and  he  edges  nearer  and  nearer  to 
his  insulter,  until  his  swelling  body  fairly 
touches  the  wires.  Meanwhile,  upon  the  open- 
ing of  the  song  the  cardinal  scolds  his  harshest, 
and  when  the  goldfinch  touches  his  wires  he 
gives  a  vicious  dig  into  his  rice,  which  sends  a 
volley  flying,  and  seizes  a  wire  in  his  bill  as 


220  "  THESE  ARE   YOUR  BROTHERS." 

though  he  would  bite  it  off.  Yet  he  will  not 
avail  himself  of  his  open  door.  The  native 
thrush  alone,  of  all  the  birds  I  have  watched, 
fails  to  display  temper.  I  never  saw  one  angry. 

There  is  great  difference  in  the  general  intel- 
ligence of  birds,  and  so  far  in  my  studies  I  have 
found  the  larger  ones  on  a  higher  grade  in  this 
respect.  The  robin,  cat-bird,  thrush,  learn  the 
intentions  of  the  various  members  of  a  family 
towards  them  much  more  quickly  than  those 
that  are  smaller.  These  birds  soon  confide  in 
me,  let  me  do  anything  I  like  about  their  cages 
without  a  flutter,  while  the  goldfinches,  —  al- 
though the  oldest  residents  and  very  familiar 
at  a  distance,  —  a  linnet  and  a  chipping  spar- 
row are  frightened  if  I  touch  the  cage. 

That  birds  show  selfishness  I  am  obliged  to 
admit.  Any  dainty  put  into  the  cage  of  one 
arouses  the  interest  of  all,  and  a  big  bird  hov- 
ering in  the  air  before  a  neighbor's  residence, 
to  discover  if  his  grape  or  bit  of  apple  is  bet- 
ter than  his  own,  is  a  queer  sight.  A  bunch  of 
fresh  leaves  in  the  goldfinch  cage  makes  an  ex- 
citement that  would  be  funny,  except  that  it  is 
painful  to  see  this  ignoble  passion  so  strong. 
To  avoid  trouble  I  always  put  in  two  bunches, 
one  at  each  end  of  the  longest  perch.  Neither 
bird  can  settle  to  one  bunch  lest  the  other  is 
better,  and  so  they  vibrate  between  the  two,  till 


"  THESE  ARE  YOUR  BROTHERS"     221 

the  whole  is  eaten.  Even  the  gentle  thrush 
so  dislikes  seeing  others  possessed  of  plantain 
leaves  that  he  will  snatch  away  from  another's 
cage  any  leaf  that  he  can  reach  from  the  out- 
side. He  is  very  dexterous,  too,  flying  up  and 
seizing  the  protruding  stem  without  alighting. 

Birds  are  as  prone  as  children  to  imitate 
what  they  see  others  do.  I  have  noticed  them 
particularly  in  the  matter  of  bathing.  I  have 
one  bird  that  never  really  bathed  till  he  learned 
by  seeing  another.  He  simply  "  washed  his 
face,"  and  then  passed  half  an  hour  arranging 
his  feathers.  But  when  a  companion  was  put 
into  his  cage  who  greatly  enjoyed  the  bath, 
going  in  all  over  and  splashing  violently,  he 
stood  and  watched  the  proceeding  with  great 
interest,  came  to  the  perch  nearest  the  bathing 
dish,  looked  on  earnestly,  and  seemed  to  be 
amazed.  Two  or  three  days  this  went  on,  his 
interest  in  the  thing  not  diminishing;  and  at 
last,  after  circling  many  times  around  the  pan 
in  an  undecided  way,  dreading  yet  wishing  to 
make  the  plunge,  he  finally  got  up  his  courage 
and  jumped  into  the  middle,  —  it  was  a  shallow 
pan  with,  one  inch  of  water.  Even  then  he 
hesitated,  looked  over  to  me,  and  called  out 
gayly  as  though  to  say,  "  See  what  I  've  done  !  " 
I  answered,  and  in  a  few  moments  he  dipped 
his  head  and  began  to  spatter.  It  was  evi- 

7 


222  "THESE  ARE    YOUR  BROTHRRS." 

dently  a  new  experience,  and  he  called  to  me 
again  and  again,  and  was  so  delighted  that  it 
was  charming  to  see.  Never  since  that  day 
has  he  neglected  the  bath,  and  he  often  gets  so 
wet  that  he  cannot  fly  to  his  cage,  four  feet 
above,  till  he  has  shaken  himself  out. 

Now,  at  this  hour  of  noon,  all  four  birds  are 
sitting  quietly  on  their  perches,  indulging  in 
their  accustomed  midday  siesta.  Suddenly  the 
goldfinch  utters  in  soft  undertone,  "  Seep ! " 
There  is  no  reply,  and  after  a  moment  he 
speaks  again,  a  little  louder  :  "  Peep  !  peep  !  " 
Across  the  window  the  cardinal,  sitting  motion- 
less on  his  perch,  now  adds  his  voice  in  a  low 
call,  followed  soon  by  a  loud  "  Three  cheers  ! 
three  cheers  !  "  The  thrush,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  room,  next  strikes  in  gently,  a  genuine 
whisper  song,  keeping  his  eye  on  me  to  see  if 
I  observe  him.  At  last  comes  the  blackbird, 
with  loud,  clear  "  h'wa-ker-ee  !  "  and  all  four 
are  singing  like  mad.  Then  suddenly  they 
drop  to  silence.  The  cardinal  goes  down  for  a 
lunch  of  rice ;  the  thrush  stands  swelled  out, 
motionless,  on  his  perch  ;  the  blackbird  inter- 
ests himself  in  the  state  of  his  feet  and  in 
stretching  his  wings  ;  and  the  goldfinch  plumes 
his  feathers.  When  all  these  duties  are  per- 
formed arid  the  cardinal  has  settled  himself 
once  more,  there  is  a  pause  of  a  few  moments, 
and  the  concert  begins  again  in  the  same  way. 


"THESE  ARE  YOUR  BROTHERS."     223 

Let  me  close  with  the  sentiment  of  Emerson 
upon  the  bird :  — 

"  In  ignorant  ages  it  was  common  to  vaunt 
the  human  superiority  by  underrating  the  in- 
stinct of  other  animals,  but  a  better  discern- 
ment finds  that  the  difference  is  only  of  less 
and  more.  Experiment  shows  that  the  bird 
and  the  dog  reason  as  the  hunter  does ;  that  all 
the  animals  show  the  same  good  sense  in  their 
humble  walk  that  the  man  who  is  their  enemy 
or  friend  does,  and  if  it  be  in  smaller  measure, 
yet  it  is  not  diminished,  as  his  often  is,  by 
freak  and  folly." 


INDEX. 


BIRD  FEATHERS,  22. 
characteristics,  23. 
slaughter,  22,  203. 
individuality,  205. 
philosophy,  207. 
manners,  208. 

thrush,  208. 

redwing  blackbird,  209. 

cat-bird,  209. 

sparrow,  209. 
sleep  with  one  eye,  210. 
regular  habits,  211. 
language,  212. 
play,  214. 

mocking-bird,  214. 

cat-bird,  214,  215. 

sparrow,  215. 
interest  in  their  surroundings, 

21G. 

jealousy,  219. 
rage,  219. 
intelligence,  220. 

robin,  220. 

cat-bird,  220. 

thrush,  220. 

goldfinch,  220. 
selfishness,  220. 
Blackbird,  redwing,  95. 
at  nesting  time,  95. 
the  nook,  96. 
the  female,  97,  98. 
manners,  97,  99. 
bathing,  99. 
washing  the  feet,  104. 
with  the  young,  99. 
the  family  broken  up,  100. 
notes  and  calls,  100. 
song,  100,  102. 
fondness  for  water,  104. 
intelligence,  104. 
illness,  105. 

accident  to  the  beak,  106. 
want  of  grace,  106. 
and  thrush,  106. 

15 


expression  of  wings,  107. 

reproaches,  108. 

baby,  124. 
Bobolinks,  134. 

difference  between,  134. 

curious  relations,  134. 
Canary  bird  drama,  145. 

marriage  of  convenience,  145. 

opinion  of  her  own,  145. 

jealousy,  146. 

desperate  fight,  147. 

death  of  the  spouse,  147. 
Cardinal  grosbeak,  206. 

morning  song,  206. 

and  goldfinch,  217. 

rage,  219. 
Cat-bird  (in  the  house),  75. 

curiosity,  76. 

investigating  the  room,  77. 

on  the  desk,  78. 

mechanical  toy,  79. 

Tweed  savings-bank,  79. 

bath  tub,  80. 

marble  to  roll,  81. 

pincushion,  81. 

waste-basket,  82. 

praying  mantis,  82. 

love  of  teasing,  85. 

and  cardinal,  85. 

insult,  86. 

and  goldfinches,  86. 

learning  by  experience,  88. 

begging  for  worms,  89. 

rubber  bands,  89. 

hiding,  90. 

and  European  song  thrush,  91. 

jealousy,  91. 

notes  and  calls,  92. 

mischief,  208. 

play,  214,  215. 

manners,  209. 

intelligence,  220. 
Cat-bird  (wild),  63. 

its  chosen  home,  63. 


226 


INDEX. 


whispered  song,  64. 

intelligence,  65. 

curiosity,  65. 

humor,  G6. 

treatment  of  pigeons,  66. 

settles  the  sparrows,  66. 

evening  toilet,  68. 

bath,  68. 

sun  bath,  69. 

attitudes,  69. 

expressions,  70. 

seeking  the  nest,  70. 

songs  and  other  notes,  71. 
Crow,  attacked  by  an  oriole,  115. 

with  the  king-bird,  117,  119. 

among  the  pine  needles,  118. 

not  know  when  beaten,  119. 
Goldfinch  (English),  35. 

sauciness,  35. 

with  a  thrush,  35. 

marriage  of  convenience,  147. 

growing  tyrannical,  148. 

rebellion,  148. 

learning  to  bathe,  149. 

cheerfulness,  205. 

amiability,  208. 

fainting  away,  210. 

talk,  213. 

turning  somersaults,  215. 

insulting  the  cardinal,  217. 

impressed,  219. 

selfishness,  220. 

bathing,  221. 

Grasshopper  under  the  glass,  83. 
King-bird,  mode  of  attack,  117. 

assisting  an  oriole,  119. 
Mantis,  praying,  82. 
Marmosets,  138. 

difference,  138. 

and  sand- worms,  139. 

opening  the  door,  140. 

rush  for  the  birds,  141. 
Mocking-bird,  change  of  residence. 
35. 

play,  214. 
Oriole,  Baltimore,  111. 

greeting,  111. 

deception,  112. 

characteristics,  112. 

nest,  113. 

approach  to  nest,  113. 

vigilance,  114. 

the  tree  shaken,  114. 

trouble  with  a  crow,  115. 

mode  of  attack,  117. 

tactics,  118. 

song,  119. 

other  cries,  120. 

accident  to  the  babies,  120. 

female  calls  and  song,  121. 


first  appearance  of  young,  121. 

looks  of  the  mother,  122. 

as  a  drudge,  122. 

the  first  peep,  123. 

excitement  in  the  family,  123. 

two  babies  flown,  124. 

a  strange  oriole,  124. 

appearance  of  babies,  124. 

cry  of  babies,  124. 

busy  times,  125. 

baby's  first  flight,  127. 

flight  of  number  four,  127. 

character  of  nestlings,  127. 

catastrophe,  128. 

flight  of  number  five,  129. 

flight  of  number  six,  129. 

nest  deserted,  130. 
Robin,  American,  1. 

cheerfulness,  1. 

notes,  4. 

worm-hunting,  5. 

trouble  with  a  turkey,  7. 

playing  a  joke,  8. 

lessons  in  worm-hunting,  9. 

teaching  to  sing,  10. 

baby,  11. 

nest,  12. 

song,  119. 

sparrow  impertinence,  199. 

talk,  213. 

intelligence,  220. 
Ring-dove,  133. 
Skylark,  135. 

when  let  out,  136. 

a  bewitching  dance,  137. 
Sparrow,  house,  153. 

morning  hymn,  153. 

manners,  154. 

nest  in  a  spruce-tree,  154. 

accident  in  the  family,  155. 

conduct  of  parents,  155. 

murder  of  the  infant,  156. 

divorce  decided  upon,  157. 

manner  of  securing  it,  158. 

bringing  home  a  bride,  158. 

differences,  159. 

nest  in  the  maple-tree,  163. 

domestic  quarrel,  164. 

conduct  of  the  cock,  164. 

hiding,  165. 

quickness  of  the  female,  166. 

change  in  affairs,  166. 

cunning,  167. 

stratagems,  168. 

cleaning  house,  169. 

reappearance,  169. 

going  a-wooing,  170. 

coquetry,  170. 

another  drama,  175. 

a  leg  lost,  175. 


INDEX. 


227 


treatment  by  the  mate,  176. 

sufferings  of  the  afflicted,  177. 

babies  to  feed,  177. 

rivals,  178. 

a  formidable  foe,  179. 

a  new  position,  179. 

trying  to  "make  up,"  180. 

recovery  and  reunion,  180. 

the  babies  out,  181. 

as  a  tyrant,  185. 

difference  of  opinion,  185. 

starting  out  the  family,  186. 

the  father  assists,  187. 

indifference  of  the  brood,  188. 

a  youngster  "answers  back," 
189. 

a  neighborly  alliance,  1 

an  insult,  191. 

philosophy,  191. 

modesty  of  females,  192. 

delight  in  a  mob,  192. 

courtship,  193. 

contest  with  a  squirrel,  194. 

indifference  of  squirrel,  196. 

introducing  an  owl,  198. 

impudence,  199. 

impertinence  to  a  robin,  199. 

play,  215. 
Squirrel  and  sparrows,  196. 

whiter  quarters,  197. 

a  year  later,  197. 
Swallow,  talk,  214. 

curiosity,  216. 
Thrush,  hermit,  26. 

intelligence,  27. 

with  the  pincushion,  28. 

interest  in  the  mirror,  28. 
Thrush,  Mexican,  34. 

with  the  wood  thrush,  34. 

manners,  142. 

temper,  143. 

as  peacemaker,  143. 

a  bird  of  one  idea,  144. 

trouble  with  the  looking-glass, 
144. 

a  blusterer,  144. 
Thrush,  song,  European,  43. 

timidity,  43. 

curious  performance,  44. 

a  ball  of  yarn,  45. 

fear  of  other  birds,  46. 

coaxing  out  of  the  cage,  46. 

dislike  of  a  doll,  46. 


alligator,  47. 

inquisitiveness,  47. 

waste-basket,  48. 

aversion  to  change,  48. 

taught  to  go  home,  49. 

disturbed  by  a  chromo,  49. 

intelligence,  50. 

recognition  of  dishes,  50. 

looking-glass  troubles,  51. 

jealousy,  51. 

tameness,  52. 

familiarity  on  one  side,  52. 

favorite  places,  53. 

attitudes,  53. 

sun-bath,  54. 

expressions,  55. 

gait,  55. 

notes  and  calls,  55. 

song,  56. 

food,  56. 

passion  for  strings,  57. 

towel  fringe,  58. 
Thrush,  wood  (wild),  13. 

female,  16. 

song,  16. 

love  of  solitude,  18. 

secret  of  hiding,  19. 

how  to  discover,  20. 

watching  his  ways,  20. 

excitement  over  a  cat,  21. 

beauty  of  plumage,  22. 

appearance  of  the  young,  24. 

intelligence,  25. 

good  temper,  25. 

song  in  confinement,  26. 
Thrush,  wood  (in  confinement),  33. 

disposition,  33. 

change  of  residence,  33. 

with  the  Mexican,  34. 

the  mocking-bird,  35. 

the  goldfinch,  35. 

monopolizing  the  apple,  36. 

sharing  the  leaf,  37. 

interest  in  the  waste-basket,  37. 

caught,  38. 

song,  39. 

spots  of  the  breast,  39. 

mystery,  39. 

manners,  208. 

temper,  220. 

intelligence,  220. 

selfishness,  221. 
Woodpecker,  golden- winged,  141. 


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Locusts   and   Wild    Honey.     By  JOHN    BUR- 
ROUGHS.   16mo,  $1.50. 
CONTENTS  :  The  Pastoral  Bees  ;  Sharp  Eyes ;  Is  it  going  to 

rain  ?     Speckled  Trout ;  Birds  and  Birds  ;  A  Bed  of  Boughs ; 

Birds' -Nesting ;  The  Halcyon  in  Canada. 

My  Garden  Acquaintance  and  a  Moosehead 
Journal.  By  JAMES  EUSSELL  LOWELL.  Illustrated.  32mo, 
75  cents.  School  Edition,  40  cents. 

My  Summer  in  a  Garden.     By  CHARLES  DUD- 
LEY WARNER.     16mo,  $1.00. 
You  cannot  open  his  book  without  lighting  on  something 

fresh  and  fragrant.  —New  York  Tribune. 


Nature.    «  Little  Classics/'  Vol.  XIV.    18mo,  $1.00. 

CONTENTS  :  A-Hunting  of  the  Deer,  by  Charles  Dudley 
Warner;  Dogs,  by  P.  G.  Hamerton ;  In  the  Hemlocks,  by  John 
Burroughs ;  A  Winter  Walk,  by  H.  D.  Thoreau  ;  Birds  and 
Bird  Voices,  by  N.  Hawthorne ;  The  Fens,  by  C.  Kingsley ; 
Ascent  of  the  Matterhorn,  by  Edward  Whymper ;  Ascent  of 
Mount  Tyndall,  by  Clarence  King;  The  Firmament,  by  John 
Ruskin. 

Nature,  together  with  Love,  Friendship.  Do- 
mestic Life,  Success,  Greatness,  and  Immortality.  By 
R.  W.  EMERSON.  32mo,  75  cents;  School  Edition, 40  cents. 

Pepacton.     By  JOHN  BURROUGHS.     16mo,  $1.50. 

CONTENTS:  Pepacton;  A  Summer  Voyage;  Springs;  An 
Idyl  of  the  Honey-Bee ;  Nature  and  the  Poets  ;  Notes  by  the 
Way  ;  Foot-Paths ;  A  Bunch  of  Herbs ;  Winter  Pictures  ;  A 
Camp  in  Maine  ;  A  Spring  Relish. 

Poems.      By    R.  W.    EMERSON.     With   Portrait. 

Riverside  Edition.     12mo,  gilt  top,  $1.75. 

This  volume  contains  nearly  all  the  pieces  included  in  the 
former  editions  of  "Poems"  and  "  May-Day,"  beside  other 
poems  not  hitherto  published.  The  collection  includes  a  very 
large  number  of  poems  devoted  to  nature  and  natural  scenery. 

Poems.    By  CELIA  THAXTER.     Small  4to,  full  gilt, 

$1.50. 

They  are  unique  in  many  respects.  Our  bleak  and  rocky 
New  England  sea-coast,  all  the  wonders  of  atmospherical  and 
sea-change,  have,  I  think,  never  before  been  so  musically  or 
tenderly  sung  about.  —  JOHN  G.  WHITTIER. 

Poetic  Interpretation  of  Nature.  By  Principal 
J.  C.  SHAIRP.  16mo,  gilt  top,  $1.25. 

Full  of  learning  and  genuine  appreciation  of  the  poetry  of 
Nature.  —  Portland  Press. 

Seaside  Studies  in  Natural  History.  By  ALEX- 
ANDER AGASSIZ  and  ELIZABETH  C.  AGASSIZ.  Illustrated. 
8vo,  $3.00. 

The  scene  of  these  "  Studies  "  is  Massachusetts  Bay. 

Summer.  Selections  from  the  Journals  of  H.  D. 
THOREAU.  With  a  Map  of  Concord.  12mo,  gilt  top,  $1.50. 


He  was  the  one  great  observer  of  external  nature  whom 
America  has  yet  produced,  a  most  subtle  portrayer  of  his  own 
personal  thoughts  and  life,  a  tribune  of  the  people,  a  man  whq 
joined  the  strongest  powers  of  thought  with  an  absolute  love 
of  liberty  and  a  perfect  fearlessness  of  mind. —  The  Indepen- 
dent (New  York). 

The  Gypsies.     By  CHARLES  G.  LELAND.     With 

Sketches  of  the  English,  Welsh,  Russian,  and  Austrian 
Romany;  and  papers  on  the  Gypsy  Language.  Crown  8vo, 
$2.00. 

We  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  this  is  the  most  de» 
lightful  Gypsy  book  with  which  we  are  acquainted.  — The  Spec- 
tator (London). 

The  Maine  Woods.     By  HENRY  D.  THOREAU. 

12mo,  gilt  top,  $1.50. 

Wake-Robin.     By  JOHN    BURROUGHS.     Revised 

and  enlarged  edition,  illustrated.     16mo,  $1.50. 

CONTENTS  :  The  Return  of  the  Birds ;  In  the  Hemlocks ; 
Adirondac;  Birds'-Nests  ;  Spring  at  the  Capital;  Birch  Brow- 
sings; The  Bluebird;  The  Invitation. 

Walden  ;  or,  Life  in  the  "Woods.     By  HENRY 

D.  THOREAD.     12mo,  gilt  top,  $1.50. 

Birds  in  the  Bush.  By  BRADFORD  TORRET.  16mo. 

CONTENTS  :  On  Boston  Common ;  Bird-Songs ;  Character 
in  Feathers ;  In  the  White  Mountains ;  Phillida  and  Coridon ; 
Scraping  Acquaintance ;  Minor  Songsters ;  Winter  Birds  about 
Boston  ;  A  Bird-Lover's  April ;  An  Owl's  Head  Holiday  ;  A 
Month's  Music. 

Winter  Sunshine.     By  JOHN  BURROUGHS.    New 

edition,  revised  and  enlarged,  with  frontispiece  illustration. 

16mo,  $1.50. 

The  minuteness  of  his  observation,  the  keenness  of  his  per- 
ception, give  him  a  real  originality,  and  his  sketches  have  a 
delightful  oddity,  vivacity,  and  freshness.  —  The  Nation  (New 
York).  ' 

*#*  For  sale  by  all  Booksellers.  Sent  by  mail,  post-paid,  on 
receipt  of  price  by  the  Publishers, 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO.,  BOSTON,  MASS. 


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